


Salt and pepper

by orphan_account



Category: Lost
Genre: M/M, Smut, michard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-17
Updated: 2012-03-17
Packaged: 2017-11-02 01:58:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/363748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I have no proper title for this. It is a fragment of immediately post-island Michard with no proper ending. You might enjoy it anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Salt and pepper

As the plane reached cruising altitude, it began to sink in that they had really escaped the island, and a backwash of adrenalin made them all giddy. High fives and high tens were exchanged, whoops were uttered, and there was a great deal of hugging and back-slapping. Claire hugged hesitantly at first, but when Ford picked her up and swung her around in the little space between the cockpit and the cabin she started to giggle, then to laugh, and clung onto him like a monkey. He took her up front to hug Frank, and 'hug Frank' became the new fad until he protested that he couldn't fly a plane with everyone lovin' on him like this, and he had to figure out where they were, anyway, and they better calm down or he'd turn this plane around, and banished them back to first class.

'Ohhh man. I am _starved,_ ' Miles said, plunking himself down in a seat and jacking it back to full recline. 'D'ya think there's any food left on board?'

'I doubt it,' said Kate. 'You'll just have to stay starving.' She and Claire wandered off on a quest for travel blankets and pillows, while Ford went back to the cockpit to consult with Frank.

'Frank needs to fly us somewhere with restaurants,' Miles said. 'I'm gonna _eat._ Everything you can't get on the island. I mean, I want to eat terrible crap like McDonald's. Just 'cause you can't get it on the island. Who's with me? We should just pull the plane up to the drive-thru.' He sat up and poked Richard, in the next seat, in the arm. 'You ever had McDonald's?'

'Once. It wasn't very good.' He reclined his own seat, laced his hands behind his head and smiled up at the ceiling. He had a wonderful feeling of the world opening up before him, in all its possibilities.

'Seriously? When the hell did you go to a McDonald's?'

'I used to have to make business trips to the outer world. I would try things. I was not impressed by McDonald's.'

'Imagining you in a McDonald's is really weird. What about Burger King?' Miles propped himself up on his elbow, looking curious.

'I don't believe so.'

'Okay, we'll go there. We'll expand your horizons. I will be your rest-of-the-world tour guide. I will teach you the ways of the outlanders, with their horseless carriages and telly-visions.'

'I lived on an island, not under a rock!' Richard laughed. 'Is this your idea of a tour? Cheap fast food restaurants?'

'Well, we'll go to classy joints too. Just, you know, we need to get the full spectrum. The highs and the lows.'

'Can't wait.' He felt a little roll of happiness go through him, just at the thought that they were going to go wherever they went next together, that here was someone prepared to be his friend.

'Good.'  Miles reached over and tweaked a grey hair out of Richard's sideburn. 'Number two. Want to make a wish on it or something? Like an eyelash?'

'You should stop doing that. If I start doing it back to you, you'll be bald pretty soon.' He lifted a hand and slid his fingers into Miles' hair, round the side of his head to the back, and tugged gently. He saw colour rush into Miles' cheeks, realized what he was doing, what it felt like he was trying to do, felt his own face go hot and stupid, and snatched back his hand as if it were burned. 

Miles abruptly returned his seatback to the upright position and developed a profound interest in re-lacing his shoes so that the ends came out perfectly even, while Richard turned equally avid attention to the contents of the seatback pocket in front of him. There was a paperback novel here, _Carrie_ , which reminded him of Juliet Burke and brought a momentary twinge of sadness and a gut feeling of guilt. So many people were dead who might not be if he had just asked more questions, just been more skeptical, insisted on understanding what was going on for himself. He couldn't think about that now. A pair of squishy foam earplugs, a packet of homeopathic anti-jet-lag pills, a travel toiletry kit with miniature bottles of lotion and deodorant and so on. At the bottom was a chocolate bar, dark chocolate with soft peppermint filling. When he opened the wrapper the smell was so wonderful his stomach growled aloud.

The bar had six segments; he broke one off and put it in his mouth to melt as slowly as possible, then offered the second to Miles, who mumbled a thank-you and didn't make eye contact. Feeling profoundly embarrassed and hoping he hadn't destroyed any chance of making a friend for his new life, he went off to find the others. Claire and Kate, who had made themselves a little nest of blankets and were talking intently in low voices when he approached, accepted the chocolate with pleasure and informed him that only one of the onboard toilets was working, and he really didn't want to look inside the ones that weren't.

He took that news forward to the cockpit, where there was more low, intent talking going on, but the chocolate was also well received.

'You see this?' Frank said, pointing to one of his displays. 'We're not far off Australia - take us about two more hours to reach the northern coast, and we've got fuel for maybe six hours, at least five, to find a good place to land.'

'We need to have a meeting,' Ford said.

They assembled in first class, Frank having engaged the autopilot.

'Here's the situation,' Ford began. He seemed to be taking charge, and Richard wondered if he should offer his services as a 2IC. On the other hand, that didn't have to be his job any more. Why stay in his rut? He listened as Ford and Frank repeated the information about their location.

'So the big question for us now,' Ford went on, 'is where do we want to land? We have choices, but we don't have long to make 'em. Do we want to make for an airport?'

Kate raised her hand. 'I just… I can't handle being Ajira Six as well as Oceanic Six. Way too many questions, and I can't talk my way out of a situation like that again. It's going to be bad enough facing my parole officer back in LA.'

Claire chimed in, 'I don't want a lot of publicity. I mean, I don't want _any_ publicity. I just want to be able to go home and see my mum and Aaron, and try and get myself sorted out.' She twined her hand into Kate's.

'I'll do whatever's easiest for everyone,' Miles said. 'I've got no big stakes here, I'm just glad to be alive.' Richard noticed that he put his hand in his pocket as he said that, then took it out, as if he were checking something important was still there.

'I've got a duty to the airline,' Frank said. 'I need to at least… I don't know, I feel like I have to report what happened to the rest of the crew and the passengers. But then… how do you really explain that? Either people think I'm crazy, or they believe me and shit starts all over again… goddamnit.' He leaned back against the bulkhead, wearily. 'I can't say anything, can I.'

'You got anything to say, Maybelline?' Ford asked Richard.

'Just that I think I can help. We have a network, people, resources, all over the world. If I can use the cockpit radio, I can make contact with Australia and make arrangements for us. Tell me the area in which we could land, the timeframe we have to work with, and they'll give us a location, meet us there, take us to a safe house, where we can get whatever we need to start over.'

'You serious?'

'Yes,' he said, simply. 'I think it's the very least I can do for you. We'll start with hot showers, clean clothes, a good meal and a safe place to sleep, and work from there.'

 

\---

 

After speaking to Jeanette in Townsville, and relaying the information about a rural Queensland airstrip that should be able to accommodate the plane, he made his way down the cabin to find that working toilet. He was reaching for the door of the one he thought it was as Miles stepped out of the one opposite.

'Oh, don't go in there,' Miles said quickly. 'It's all clogged up and somebody puked. I found out the hard way. We should figure out a way to label this door. Find a Sharpie or something.' He smiled sheepishly. 'Hey… sorry about before.' He didn't specify what part of 'before' he was sorry about, the touching or the recoiling, and it didn't seem wise to ask. Richard was just sidling past him to reach the door when he realised something had been missing for hours. He put his hand to his neck as he caught his breath.

'What's wrong?' Miles asked. 'You okay?' He was only half-aware of the voice, though, frantically unbuttoning his shirt. 'What? You're wearing a sweater? You want to show me this? Richard, what's up? You look freaked out.'

Then he found it, thank heaven, a little glint of metal in a fold of his shirt where it tucked in at the waist. He drew it out and held the little cross in his palm, trailing its broken chain.

'What's that?' Miles asked.

'It's… well, it's my only memento of my late wife.'

'Oh. Sorry.'

'It was a long time ago. Before the island.' He peered at the ends of the chain, unable to bring them into focus. 'I haven't got my reading glasses. Can you take a closer look at this? Is it just the clasp that's broken?'

Miles picked up the chain and examined it. 'No… no, a link broke. A jeweller could fix it, though, I bet. Little… little teeny tiny soldering iron.' He dotted his fingertip at it, then paused, thoughtfully. 'Hey,' he said, 'until we can get it fixed, use this.' He pulled off the chain around his own neck, long enough that he could just lift it over his head. 'Let's see if it'll fit the loop on this. Yep.'

'I can't take that,' Richard protested.

'Why not? Listen, yours has got sentimental value. Mine's just… I got in the habit of wearing it so when I went to the gym I could hang the key of my locker on it. Okay? So here, wear it.' He passed the chain over Richard's head, letting the cross drop down against his chest. It caught on his chest hair and turned backwards, and Miles adjusted it, turning the decorated side of the cross outward. He was looking down, only at the cross, so Richard couldn't make out his expression properly, but his forehead looked flushed. 

His own face felt as if it must be radiating heat, his heart thumping and pushing more blood to all the wrong places, and that deep gut feeling of guilt was back, because he was wishing Isabella's memory wasn't right in front of him, in between him and Miles, and he felt intensely disloyal and unfaithful and wrong, but he still knew he was going to try it.

Miles lifted his head and he leaned in and kissed him, before he could lose his nerve, before either of them could speak. For what felt like a very, very long time he got no response, just startled stillness and the unbelievable softness of Miles' lips. Then there was a little answering pressure and then time snapped back to its normal rate and Miles was grabbing him, so roughly that he thought for a moment they were going to fight, that he was disgusted and enraged, but no, he was still returning the kiss, opening his mouth, warm and sweet.

Miles was holding him, stepping back and shoving in the door of the lavatory and pulling him in, slamming the door after them, and for a long time they were speechless, clinging together, lost in the slip and surge and suck of deep, probing kisses. He wanted to memorise how this felt, the strong arms round his waist and the whisker burn on his upper lip and chin. At length, they had to break apart just to catch their breath, and then Miles looked so beautiful with his lips all rosy and wet it was hard not to start again instantly. He controlled himself, just, and settled for stroking his hair. They rested together forehead to forehead, breathing heavily, Richard leaning back against the sink and Miles leaning on him.

'Just so you know,' Miles said eventually, 'I don't make a habit of this.'

'This?'

'Kissing a guy. So if I do something really awkward, that's why.'

'You're not awkward. Neither do I.'

'You are completely and totally not my type, but I still want to do this.'

'Do what?'

'This.' Another long, deep, wet kiss, and warm eager hands inside his shirt, rubbing his chest. He gave a deep, glad groan and wrapped his arms around Miles again, pulling up his teeshirt and stroking his back, feeling how smooth and warm his skin was, the firm, compact musculature that moved gently under his hands, such a sharp contrast to the last time he'd held someone this close, because she was softer and plumper, and that was so long ago the muscle memory was almost gone. 

To actually get this close, to hold and kiss and be kissed, was making him burn all over. All the loneliness, the aching, _physical_ loneliness that he'd had no choice but to repress and ignore, had told himself it was his duty to overcome, was surging back up so fiercely it made him shiver all over. He reached down with one shaky hand and squeezed between Miles' legs, groping through his trousers and feeling the stiff ridge of his erection, trapped against one leg by his underwear. 

Miles' breathing grew shallower, more rapid, and he pushed hard into Richard's hand, his hips twitching. 'Yes,' he murmured, 'oh yes.' He fumbled at Richard's pants in turn, unbuckling his belt, unzipping, reaching in and squeezing. 'Fuck, you're big.'

'I'm not _that_ big.' Still, it felt wonderful to hear him say it, to feel his quick warm fingers tracing his shaft, tugging his cock out of his boxers and rubbing it briskly.

'Big enough. Here, do mine.'

'Good?'

'So good.' They were panting against each other's faces now, squeezing and stroking, pressed chest to chest, hip to hip, thigh to thigh.

'I want to…'

'What?'

'You know. Be with you. Be in you.'

'You want to fuck me.'

'Well, can you blame me?'

Miles' hand stopped moving and he looked away.

'But… but if you don't want to…'

'I want to, but frankly I'm scared. I can't… can't try and do something like that, for the first time, in here. You know.'

'I wouldn't hurt you… I'd be so careful…'

'How do _you_ know it won't hurt? Have you done it?'

'Uh… no… but what am I going to do with this?'

'Keep doing what you're doing… and I'll do what I'm doing… and we'll come like horny teenagers, and it'll be enough for now.' He leaned in again and kissed Richard urgently, his hand moving again, warm and strong and steady. Richard kissed back, stroked back, felt the way the soft skin slipped around the hard shaft, felt the warm juice slipping from the tip grease his palm, felt his hips tensing and pumping, his own excitement and pleasure growing so rapidly he knew exactly what Miles meant about horny teenagers.

Miles was gasping now, his voice hoarse and husky, his eyelids fluttering and his brows drawing together, the look on his face so sweet that Richard was torn between wanting to kiss him harder and wanting to lean back and watch him. Kissing him won out, though, and they were locked together when they came, moments apart.

For a while they just leaned on each other, breathing hard, hot and sweaty, their shirts clinging to their backs. Miles pushed away and leaned against the opposite wall, getting his breath back. A smile spread over his face and he started to laugh, weakly, giddily.

'That was _awesome_ ,' he said.

'It really was,' Richard agreed. He felt blissfully light-headed and floaty. If it weren't for the edge of the sink digging into his ass, he could have fallen asleep leaning here. He rocked his head back against the wall for a moment, stretching his neck a little.

Miles was looking at a thick spatter of white on his lower belly. 'Is that yours or mine?'

'I don't know.'

Miles dabbed his finger in it and licked it. 'Must be yours. Mine tastes different.'

'You've tasted yours?'

'You've never tasted yours? Stick your tongue out. There.'

'Just tastes like salt.' He could feel a fresh rush of heat rolling through his face, shame and confusion and pleasure all together.

'Where'd mine go? We should clean up. For the others' sake.'

'Just in my hand.' He showed it.

'You want to taste that too?'

'Think I should?' He licked his palm, hesitantly, his eyes on Miles, seeing a little flicker of satisfaction on his face, and felt that shame-pleasure rush all over again. 'It does taste different. Maybe a little more bitter?'

'If you want to fuck me, you definitely have to go down on me. So that's good practice.'

'So you're saying I can?' He stood up and leaned in again, his hands on Miles' waist, brushing a kiss against his lips.

'I think so. Depends how I feel later.' He wrapped his arms lazily around Richard's shoulders and nuzzled at his lips. 'You might need to get me a little drunk first. I'm a lot easier when I'm tipsy.'

There was a tap at the door and they both froze, wide-eyed.

'You okay in there?' Kate's voice asked.

'Fine,' Richard said, probably too loudly. 'Be out in a minute.'

'Hey, have you seen Miles?'

'Well, not in here.' He gave an awkward little laugh and Miles gave him a filthy look.  'He can't have gone far, right? Maybe he's lying down somewhere. He was pretty tired.'

'I'll go look,' she said, and they heard her footsteps receding. Miles let out a breath he must have been holding for the last thirty seconds.

'Okay,' Richard whispered, 'I'll go out and distract her. You wait at least a minute before you come out.'

_'Now_ we start whispering. God, we're dumb. Anyone could have heard us.'

'I mean - it's not that I'm ashamed of you…' Of course, he was ashamed, just not of Miles in particular. He buttoned and tucked in his shirt at high speed, zipped and belted his pants, hoping he looked more or less normal.

'No, but this shit's private, right?'

'Right. Do I look okay?'

'You look good to me. Wash your hands, dumbass.'

 

\---

 

They landed at dusk on a small, rural airstrip. The runway was only just long enough for a safe landing, and Frank breathed a gusty sigh of relief when they taxied to a halt. There was a minivan waiting by the flight control hut.

'What happens to the plane?' Claire asked as they made their way down the steps, stiff-legged and yawning.

'We're going to dismantle it,' Richard said. He lifted a hand to the man standing by the minivan, whom he vaguely recognised from an earlier contact.

'Seriously?' She scampered behind him, hand in hand with Kate, while the others brought up the rear.

'Absolutely. A crew will be here in a few minutes, with trucks. We need to be gone by then. Evening, Barry. Thank you for coming out.' He shook the man's hand, feeling idiotically conscious of what his hands had recently been doing. He and Miles, by unspoken agreement, had been more or less ignoring each other for the remainder of the flight. It seemed prudent. He needed to have his wits about him, to be competent and organised and calm, and all he could think about was what they'd done, what Miles had said, what they might do later tonight.

The safe house was about an hour's drive from the airstrip, and it was difficult not to fall asleep on the way. Miles, he saw, did fall asleep, sitting next to Ford, at first leaning over against the window, but after a while stirring and shifting over with his head on the other man's shoulder. Ford smiled wryly and rolled his eyes, tolerating it, and Richard had to nod and smile back and pretend he wasn't idiotically jealous, considering that he only just knew Miles, and there was no sign whatever that Ford shared his interest in him.

The house itself was one of the last rural-seeming houses before the outskirts of a suburb began, two storeys of pink stucco with pretensions to Art Deco and welcoming light in the windows. Stretching and groaning and becoming profoundly aware of how stiff and smelly their clothes were, they made their way in and found Barry's partner Denise getting a vast tray of lasagna out of the oven. 

They sat down around the dining table and ate as if starved, wordlessly, so that the only sounds were the clinks of cutlery on dishes, breathing and chewing, and the occasional scrape of a chair leg on the floor. Barry and Denise sat by and watched them, politely, intently, nervously. They were going to need some kind of explanation, some kind of direction for the future, not that Richard knew what that was going to be. He would have to think of something, and he didn't want to, didn't want any of the responsibility, but knew he'd have to accept it. As far as they knew, it was what he was there for.

The phone rang in the kitchen, and Denise went away to answer it. She was back a couple of minutes later, looking awed. 'It's for you,' she told Richard.

The voice on the other end was faint and crackly, but familiar. 'Hello?'

'Ben!' The feeling of relief, of suppressed hope realised, was so strong that he had to sit down. 'Are you all right? I thought you might - I didn't know if you could have survived.'

'I survived. It seems to be what I do,' Ben said wryly. 'So did the satellite phone in my secret room. I've been calling around to spread the word, and imagine my surprise to hear that you were busy surviving too.'

'It came as a surprise to me too. Who's with you?'

'Hugo. You?'

'Ford, Austen, Littleton, Lapidus and Straume.'

'I saw the plane fly off. That must have been you.'

'I'm so sorry we couldn't bring you. There just wasn't time.'

'It's all right. I chose to stay. I'm not leaving any time soon. Richard, there's a new man in charge.'

He paused, taking that in. 'Ben… how could you…'

'No, not me.' Ben sighed a little. 'Of course I couldn't. Hugo. Initially it passed to Shephard, but he's gone too. It has been _quite_ a day.'

'Hugo… Reyes… is the new protector of the island.' He tried to shape that idea around what he knew of Hugo Reyes - chubby, anxious, well-meaning, a little unstable, a little smelly in hot weather. Kind, though.

'That's right. I actually think he'll do a very good job. As for my new job, is there any advice you'd like to give?'

'You don't have to do it, Ben.'

'I know. I did say I chose to stay.' His voice softened a little. 'I need to stay. This is where I belong. There's a lot I need to do.'

'Ben, I'm sorry.'

'What for?'

'More or less everything from 1847 onwards.'

'I don't accept that. I would be insulted to hear that you regretted building all those model ships together. I worked very hard on all that rigging.'

'All right, except that.' He paused, having to will himself to make the offer. 'Do you want me to come back and help you?'

'If anyone has served his time, it's you. I think we'll be all right. But I would - well, I'd appreciate your guidance. I might just call. Every now and then.'

'You can have it. Just… just not right now, because I'm exhausted and my thoughts are a mess. Anything I tell you now would probably be garbage.'

'Well, put Denise or Barry back on. I have to pass on some instructions.'

'He hasn't started giving you lists already, has he?'

'He's not the listing type.'

'Don't ever assume he knows better because he has the power, all right? They're just people.'

'Nobody knows that better than he does.'

'Speak again soon?'

'Definitely. Look after yourself.'

'You too,' Richard said, lamely. He set down the phone and went to find Denise or Barry.

 

\---

 

The house had three bedrooms, each of which could sleep two, but only one bathroom. After Denise and Barry went home, it was generally agreed that Claire could have the first shower, as her need was perceptibly the greatest. The rest of them sat around the living room, numb with exhaustion, trying not to smell themselves. There was a TV, which Frank turned on to a news broadcast, flickering images and voices. 

Richard sprawled in an armchair and tried to take in that this was the world he would really be living in now, a world in which things like who was president of where weren't just background details. He started mentally listing the things he would need - identification, citizenship, a place to live, a source of income, a story about who he was and where he came from. The best lies were based closely on the truth - easier to remember, too. 

_Hello. I'm Richard. I'm from Tenerife, originally. Yes, it's beautiful there. No, I haven't been back for a long time. No, no family living back there._

Then again, why be limited to the truth? He could be from anywhere, could pass for Greek or Italian if he wanted to, be European, be South American, be a foundling child left on the doorstep of an orphanage in Bhutan. Did they have orphanages in Bhutan? He supposed he could visit Bhutan now, if he wanted to, and find out. God, he was tired.

Kate took her turn in the shower queue, and an unwelcome thought occurred to Richard. It was natural enough that they let the ladies go first, and equally natural that they should share one of the bedrooms. That left two rooms and four men. Who slept where?

Miles and Ford were friends. He hadn't thought about that, but of course, they were friends. They had worked together, depended on each other, had nicknames for each other. They were talking to each other now, sitting side by side on the couch, slumped back with just their heads turned towards each other, voices low and calm. Wouldn't it be just as natural if Ford expected they were going to share a room? And then, instead of spending the night wrapped around Miles, he would have to politely, awkwardly share with Frank, who, while he was a perfectly nice person and he owed him his life and he really had very nice eyes and probably cleaned up well, was not what he wanted, not what he wanted at all.

How could he avoid that without being obvious? Was there some way he could talk to Miles privately, again without being obvious? What if he did, though, and Miles had reconsidered, had decided that what happened on the plane was just one of those things, a moment of madness, an adrenaline rush in the excitement of escaping, and he didn't want to go any further, would much rather just share with his buddy Jim and get back to normal? Godawful thought.

Kate put her towel-wrapped head round the door. 'Bathroom's free. Good night, guys.'

'Anyone mind if I go next?' Miles asked the room at large. 'No? Here I go. Night everyone.' He walked out, making Richard reassess things all over again by appearing to deliberately make eye contact on the way. Just a moment, and his expression didn't change, but it seemed encouraging. He tried to pay attention to the TV set, which was announcing the results of some sort of singing competition in which the home audience could vote by phone, but was acutely aware of the distant sound of the shower running. 

Keeping his face neutral, he tried out the thought of Miles naked under the warm water, and wondered whether he was the same light golden brown all over, like smooth peanut butter. He wished he'd _looked_ properly before; now he could hardly remember anything except that he'd been excited out of his mind and it had all felt wonderful. Was Miles thinking about him too? Maybe touching himself? Or waiting, saving up? His face felt warm and he hoped he didn't look red. Someone was out of the singing competition, focus on that. Poor girl, she looked so upset. _It's not the end of the world, singing girl. Worse things could happen._

The shower sound stopped. After a short time he heard Miles' footsteps come down the hallway, and wondered if he would see him in a towel, but all he did was knock on the living room door and walk away again. He got up with what he hoped didn't look like unseemly haste.

'Okay if I go next?' he asked. Ford ignored him, staring gloomily at the screen where the girl was singing her farewell number, and Frank was asleep, his head tipped back and snoring faintly, so he didn't bother to say good night, just headed down the hall. Miles wasn't there, which put paid to a half-formed fantasy. The bathroom was steamy and there was a heap of damp towels in a hamper. Clean dry ones were stacked on a shelf, and a pile of flat cellophane packages alongside proved to be unisex cotton pyjamas in a variety of sizes. The cellophane and cardboard inserts from three pairs were crumpled in the wastebasket. Denise must have gone shopping for them. There were even slippers, although they didn't look like they would fit him.

He started the water, peeled off his clothes, stuffed them into the hamper and got into the shower. This house must have a wonderful hot water cylinder; he'd been afraid he would get a cold shower. Just to be fair to the last two, he tried to be quick about washing off the dirt. He realised as the last of it spiralled down the drain that he was actually washing off the island, and that saying goodbye somehow might have been appropriate. Too late now.

He dried himself and pulled on pyjamas in thin, cheap-feeling cotton. There was an electric razor by the sink and he wondered if he should shave, or if that would be trying too hard. He did it anyway; perhaps Miles would appreciate the effort. He was starting to feel both anticipatory and increasingly nervous. It seemed wise to clean his teeth, too, since Denise had so considerately provided toothbrushes, and there had been plenty of garlic and onions in the meaty parts of the lasagna.

There was a knock on the door and an Alabaman voice tersely enquiring whether he couldn't give himself a home perm some other time, given that other people would like to get clean and bed down this year.

'All right. Sorry.' He edged out into the hall and let Ford into the bathroom with a mutual exchange of dirty looks. He supposed he ought to be tolerant since the poor man was recently bereaved, but that home perm remark had stung, particularly as it had come just when he really was being fussy about his appearance. Checking for rogue nose hairs, to be honest.

The bedrooms were upstairs. One door was shut, and another was open but obviously empty. The third was half-open, and when he looked in there was clearly just one person in the bed - just one bed, but a large one, and this person equally clearly had short-cropped hair. He shut the door and padded over to the bed with his pulse thudding in his ears.

'Miles?' he whispered.

Oh, for God's sake, he was fast asleep. He'd taken too long making himself smooth-faced and sweet-smelling and Miles had fallen asleep. He looked very sweet asleep, with his face all soft and calm, but he was clearly a deep sleeper to whom gentle shoulder-jiggling made no difference. Richard tried kissing him, which felt very, very nice, but didn't wake him either.

There was nothing he could do but lie down and wait for sleep too.

 

\---

 

He was too warm and someone was jostling his shoulder.

'Hey. Wake up. Come on, wakey wakey.' Miles was whispering.

'Is it morning?' He rolled onto his back and blinked, trying to make sense of how dark it was.

'No, it's the middle of the freaking night, and I'm wide awake. I hate jet lag.'

'I could sleep. I was sleeping.' He rubbed his face and hitched himself up a little higher on the pillows, looking at the bedside clock. 'Two-twenty-seven. Unh.'

'Stay awake and talk to me till I get tired again.' Miles lay back with his arms folded behind his head, a vague shadowy figure.

'What do you want to talk about?' _Please want to talk about sex, you and me, the having of._ He turned on the bedside lamp, to help himself stay awake. 

'I don't know. Anything.'

'Tell me about you.' _And what you want. Please let that be me._

'Okay. Me. Miles. You know a lot of stuff about me anyway, don't you? You guys did a lot of surveillance stuff.'

'That's not the same thing.'

'Did you know I was born on the island?'

'I didn't. I thought delivery on the mainland was standard.'

'Yeah, it is. I just came early. In fact, my mom was booked to go on the sub the next day, in plenty of time. She thought she'd take a nice hot bath and relax, and she was just soaking when boom, contractions. She thought it was a false alarm, Braxton Hicks stuff, so she tried to ride it out, and then she realised nope, nope, I was definitely on my way, she could feel the shape of my head coming down the pipe. So she screamed for my dad and he had to help her deliver me. Which was cool, because she'd wanted a water birth anyway. So I entered the world in a bathtub in one of those little yellow houses. And I know that story 'cause I eavesdropped on her in the cafeteria, telling it to another woman who was pregnant and nervous.'

'Did it make her more or less nervous?'

'I don't know. It made me really sad that I didn't know my mom better… but it would have been too weird to try to get to know her then, and she's gone now.'

'I'm sorry.'

'Nah. I did it to myself. Spent a long time being an angry, angsty little asshole, mad at her 'cause she was there. And then one day she wasn't there. You really want to hear this? I think my life is kind of depressing.'

'I want to hear it.' So Miles told it, a little stiltedly, drawing together the pieces of his life that Richard was already aware of, filling in gaps. It sounded like a fairly empty life to him, one without a sense of purpose, only a grudging determination to make his way in the world, since he was stuck in it. No serious relationships or even very close friendships. Nothing much that he believed in or hoped for or sincerely wanted.

'But you have an amazing gift,' he said. 'That makes you very special.'

'My _gift_ sucks. I get to know what people were thinking just before they died. That's real cheerful. Really brightens my life.'

'You could use it to help solve murders.'

'Not reliably. 'Cause the thing is, people about to die often don't know what the hell is going on. They're scared or confused or someone gets the drop on them and their last thought is "What?" I'll tell you something… and believe me, this is not something I just go around telling people… I wasn't there when my mom died. I did try to get there. The hospice phoned me and I started out, but the traffic was insane that day, so she died on her own. So they left me alone with her for a little bit, and for a while I was afraid to go near her. 

'I needed to say goodbye, but I knew if I touched her or even just got too close I was going to get those last thoughts, and I was so scared of what they would be. That she was scared. That she was mad at me. Where's Miles? Why isn't he here for me? I got myself so worked up I was mad at _her_ because it wasn't my fault, it was the traffic. Finally I sat down beside her, and I took her hand. And I got that last thought.'

'What was it?' Richard asked. Miles began to laugh, not a bitter laugh, quite a pleasant one really.

'She was thinking about _Judge Judy_ to take her mind off the pain. She didn't think she was dying, just trying to get through it. Ride it out. And she was having a little chuckle to herself about how Judge Judy told off some asshole, and then she died.'

'That's kind of nice.' Richard paused. 'I take it _Judge Judy_ is some kind of TV show?'

'Yeah, it's pretty awful. But my mom liked it. But… yeah, that's why I'm not some kind of magic truth detector. A person's last thoughts, they don't necessarily mean anything, or tell you anything useful. Now you.' He turned onto his side, looking at Richard expectantly.

'Now me what?'

'Now you tell me about yourself. Start with why I've seen you in the fifties, seventies, and two-thousands and you always look the same age.'

So he told the story. 'And that's not something I just tell people, either.'

'Jeez.' Miles paused a moment, seeing to turn it all over in his mind. 'So it seems like your life's got this running theme of getting totally screwed over by authority figures who you trusted.'

'That thought has occurred to me.'

'I think it sucks more to be you than it does to be me, and that's saying something.' Miles looked hesitant for a moment, his eyes darting away, and then leaned over and kissed Richard on the cheek.

'Is that a pity kiss?' His heart was thumping again.

'It's an I don't know how to get this going again because before was really spontaneous and since then I've had time to overthink it and get all nervous kiss.' His face was about six inches from Richard's, and his breath was warm and heavy.

'I need very little encouragement,' Richard told him, and kissed his rosy mouth with a profound feeling of relief and a deep upsurge of desire. 'You have such a beautiful beautiful mouth,' he mumbled. 'Soft soft lips like…' He couldn't think what they were like, only that they were lush and soft and warm and Miles' tongue was hot and wet and sliding against his own and oh God he was biting his lower lip, _sucking_ his lip. He pushed Miles onto his back and rolled on top of him, pushing up the top of his pyjamas as he kissed him harder and deeper, rubbing his chest, feeling how very warm he was, starting to sweat, hearing him pant and whimper down low in his throat.

'You'd better not be going to say like a girl,' Miles murmured.

'Nothing like a girl.' He squeezed the muscle of his chest, rubbed his thumbs over his nipples, felt them stiffen.

'Only you are kind of doing a boob squeeze there.'

'Doesn't it feel good?'

'Fees really good. Have you ever done this before? With a guy I mean?'

'Of course not.' He went in to kiss him again, but Miles pulled back a little.

'Why of course?'

'I've never felt like this before.'

'I've… I've kind of had crushes on guys, but I've never _done_ anything. I didn't want to be gay. Like I needed one more way to be weird.'

'I don't think I'm gay. I just really want _you_.' He got his kiss this time, slow and deep and wet, and drew back just to look at him, at the flush in his cheeks and lips and how dark his eyes were, pupils wide and deep.

'Think you might be kidding yourself a little bit there.'

'Yeah?'

'You're rubbing your dick on me and it feels really hard.'

'You like it?'

'Far too much.' Miles bit his own lip this time, taking Richard's hand and moving it down to his groin.

'Do you want me to…'

'Of course I do.'

'You know I don't really know how, I mean I've never had to…'

'Just keep your teeth off it and I'll be a very happy man.'

'And then we can…'

Miles chuckled again, stroking his face, brushing his lips and chin with his fingers. 'You look so, so earnest. All big eyes… and you've got such great eyes… so beautiful… did you get laid a lot on the island?'

'I didn't get laid at all. I was celibate. It was part of the - the commitment, the deal. Purity and focus.'

Miles' eyes widened. 'Shit! I could _not_ handle that.'

'So _you_ were getting laid on the island?'

'Hey, a three-year dry spell is nothing compared with a hundred plus years. Roll over. I'm _worried_ about you now.'

'I'm fine, though,' Richard protested, offering no resistance at all to being rolled over and having his pants pulled down. 'And I promised you, sort of.'

'But you want me to, right?' Miles kissed his stomach, just above his navel, making him shiver blissfully. 'Damn, you're hairy.'

'Sorry.'

'Not complaining. I like your hairy self. I think you're kind of hot, didn't you know?' He flashed a crooked little smile up at Richard and kissed his navel, pressing his tongue in and circling gently.

'Ooh…' He let out a faint moan and shifted his hips, getting comfortable, pulling the top of his pajamas off over his head and dropping it down the side of the bed. Miles was touching him now, holding him and stroking up and down, sliding his hand down to cup and gently squeeze his balls.

'These are big too. You have really, really nice equipment.'

'Thank you… ohh…' He caught his breath, feeling those soft full lips press against the root of his cock, parting, tongue stroking, travelling up the underside, soft slurping kisses that made his hips shake with eagerness. 'Oh Miles, Miles-Miles-Miles, I love your mouth, I love it, it's perfect.'

'You're babbling,' Miles said, giving him another little smile and kissing the tip, sliding his foreskin up and down with his fingertips. Then he was drawing him in, enveloping him in warmth, those lips wrapped tight around his shaft, tongue stroking and everything meltingly wet and hot. He moved slowly at first, then seemed to get comfortable and sped up a little, his head bobbing, sending waves of pleasure through Richard's body, making him gasp and grunt softly.

Miles lifted his head and caught his breath. 'Good?'

'Perfect. And you've never done that before?'

'Well, you know, I've got _opinions_ about how it should be done.'

'Do you _like_ doing it?'

'Um… yeah. I'm surprised how much. I like how you taste… I like how it feels in my mouth, like the shape of it.' He was playing with the foreskin again, covering and uncovering. 'I never got such a close look at someone else's before. I'm kind of comparing it with mine.'

'If you move round I can see yours too. I _really_ want to see yours. All of you. Come on, take this off. God, you have great skin.' He got Miles to sit up, pulling his pants down from his hips while he removed his top, running his hands over his thighs and pushing them apart.

'How about my cock? Is that great? Say it is even if it's not.'

'What kind of attitude is that?' He wrapped his hand around the shaft and rubbed it lightly. 'How are you going to believe me when I tell you what I like about it?'

'I don't know, I guess it depends on how specific you get.' Miles was nibbling at his lower lip, watching Richard's hands closely.

'All right. First, I like the shape. I like this upward arch it's got. It looks eager.'

'Oh, it's eager. Good start.'

'And I like the colour. Colours. Brown, golden, pink - I love that pink.' 

'Want to suck it?' His voice was eager too, a little catch in it.

'Very much. You keep going with mine, okay?' He stretched out on his side, rubbing his hands over Miles' thighs, so warm and firm, round over his buttocks, breathing in the smell of his skin, spicy and a little oniony. Miles was sucking him again, and it felt so sweet that he had to take a deep breath and control himself before he tried to give him the same pleasure. He tried taking just the tip in his mouth first, getting the taste of it, finding it salty and strong, feeling Miles quiver, both hearing and feeling his groan, surging through his own flesh.

He had thought it would be difficult, that it would feel weird and uncomfortable and he would need to overcome some kind of inhibition, but it felt completely natural and right, exactly what he was supposed to do and needed to do, and Miles was making wonderful sounds and moving his hips gently, pushing a little deeper into his mouth, reaching down with one hand to stroke his hair while the other palmed and rolled his balls.

'Ohgodyou'regood,' Miles mumbled, panting over his wet, achingly tender skin, then pulling him in again, sucking hard. They developed a sort of wordless communication, each showing the other exactly what he wanted and receiving it in turn, their bodies pressed tightly together and their hands stroking, rubbing, squeezing. He was slightly shocked when Miles' tongue moved down over his balls and between his buttocks.

'You tensed up,' Miles said, his voice a little hoarse.

'Where are you going?'

'Where do you think I'm going? I want to rim you.'

'How's that?'

'You know… I want to lick you, kiss you. It feels so good, I promise you, a chick did this to me once and I came my brains out.' He went back to it, kissing, lapping gently.

'Jesus!'

'No, just me. Move your leg. Good. You really like this, don't you? It's okay.' He spoke in breathless snatches, his lips smacking softly against Richard's skin, his tongue feeling like a wet flame, flickering and licking and making him burn. He was still stroking his cock, still rubbing and tugging, and when he pushed his tongue in he could feel it jerk as Richard came.

Richard collapsed on the bed, feeling limp and weak and ecstatic, his heart thumping, his pulse pounding in his temples. For a long time all he could do was gasp and beam at the ceiling.

'You look so moony,' Miles said, an affectionate little chuckle in his voice. 'Are you going to look like that every time I make you come?'

'Did I look like that the first time?'

'Yep. Completely blissed out.'

'Then yeah… probably.' He stretched and rolled over to hug Miles. 'Are you hoping to make me come a lot?'

'You should make me come first. You owe me one.'

'Same way?' He shifted, turning Miles around.

'Please. Ohh…' 

'Like this?'

'Mmm… kiss around it. Just like I did. That's right. Use your tongue. It's okay, you know I'm as clean as you are. It's… ohhh… oh fuck, fuck yes. Get in there. Yesss…'

'Are you okay? You're shaking.'

'Did I say stop? Just… oh, ohh, _yes,_ right there.'

'What if I put my finger in?'

'You'll have a friend for life. Ah!' 

'You're so soft inside.'

'Can you… can you?'

'Not yet, not for a little bit.'

'Push it in deeper, then. Ohhh… and fuck it in and out, fuck me with your finger.'

'Like that?'

'Ohhhh… now suck me at the same time.'

'Say please.'

_'Please.'_ After that he couldn't make words, only sounds; Richard watched his face with upturned eyes and saw the sounds give way to little voiceless oh-shapes, his lips shining wet, until his body tensed and his own mouth was filled with that seawater taste.

Finally Miles relaxed, rolling onto his back, breathing deeply.

'And now you look moony,' Richard told him. He lay beside Miles, stroking his stomach, feeling how his muscles gently twitched as he wound down.

'Yeah? You have cum on your chin.' He pulled him up and licked it away, and Richard rolled onto him, wrapping him up and kissing him deeply.

'That was so weird,' Miles breathed. 'I mean, I wanted it way more than I was ready for. I knew I liked someone playing with my butt but I wanted you to _fuck_ me. Hard. Before I was like, well I'll probably let him because he really wants to and it shouldn't be too bad… and I'll make him do some stuff I do like first… and then I was all disappointed because I only got your finger.'

'You did use the word fuck a lot.'

'Sometimes it's the best word. Like the word for your face right now is smirk.'

'I liked "fuck it in and out." That was a new one to me.'

'Yeah, well, you knew what it meant, didn't you?'

'From context.' He kissed Miles slowly and softly, feeling a deep, slightly mushy tenderness towards him. He wasn't sure if he was falling in love with him or just experiencing an intense post-orgasmic afterglow. Probably the latter, based on such a short acquaintance, but it felt very, very nice to feel this way. 'I haven't had someone else this close to me for a long, long time. I'm not smothering you, am I?'

'Nah… feels pretty nice. All warm… and kind of furry.' He rubbed Richard's forearm. 'I keep being surprised how comfortable this is.'

'Me too. I thought I'd feel more awkward… or you would… but you seem to take to it like a duck to water. Are you really sure you haven't done anything like this before?'

'Not outside my head.'

'Ah, but inside your head?'

'Inside my head…' Miles said thoughtfully, and brought his lips to Richard's ear to whisper, rapid and husky. 'Okay, inside my head, sometimes, I meet a guy, a big strong handsome guy, and he takes charge, right? He takes over, and he kisses me, and he blows me, and he holds me down and fucks me. I couldn't stop him if I wanted to, but I don't want to. And he tells me what to do, and he tells me he knows this is what I want, he could see how much I needed dick as soon as he saw me, and he's gonna take care of me now and fuck me just like I need, and I can't believe I'm telling you that.'

'You've been thinking about this a _lot.'_ He kissed Miles' shoulder, his neck, parting his lips to lick and suck at his skin, tasting his sweat.

'Not all the time… just sometimes… when it's been a while… are you trying to give me a hickey?'

'Yes. So you dream about being fucked, but you're not sure you'll like it in real life?'

'Look at your finger, and look at your dick. What is that, like ten times bigger?'

'I think maybe you're exaggerating.' He smothered his laugh against Miles' warmth. 'I think it'll fit.'

'Yeah? You think I'll like it?'

'I think you will… I think I'll slide it in and you'll love it. You won't be able to stop telling me how much you love it. You'll ask me to fuck it in and out.' That got a laugh, but also a sharp pinch on his ass. 'Fuck it in and out, fuck me with your great big dick, like that.'

'Stuff your huge cock right up my tight little ass and fuck me senseless.'

'Then fuck you back to your senses.' He slid his hands down Miles' sides and fondled his hips.

'I love hearing you say fuck.'

He put his lips to Miles' ear and whispered, 'I'm going to fuck you.'

'God, yes.' Miles clung to him for a moment and then pushed him back a bit. 'Ah, shit, I have to get practical for a moment.'

'Yeah?'

'Yeah… I mean in a fantasy you can stick it straight in, in reality we need lube and condoms. At least lube.'

'I don't have anything like that. Do you?'

'No, I don't actually go around with a tube of K-Y in my pants pocket.'

'Does that mean we can't?'

'I don't know… maybe with enough spit… here, let me try.' He lowered his mouth on Richard's cock, licking rapidly. 'Will it gross you out if I just spit on it?'

'No… do you have any idea how I feel seeing your beautiful mouth on my dick?'

'You're obsessed with my mouth.' He spat and spread the moisture with his tongue.

'You're obsessed with my dick, so it works out for both of us.' He ran his hands gently through Miles' hair, over his neck and shoulders, getting short of breath at the thought of what they could do to each other.

'Okay,' Miles said. He sounded equally breathless. He rose on his knees and turned away from Richard, arching his back, offering his ass. 'Try it, just try it.'

'I'm going to stop if you say it hurts, all right? If it feels like too much, if it's not good… you say something.'

'It's okay.'

He edged up on his knees, put one hand on Miles' shoulder to steady him, took hold of himself with the other hand, lined it up and gently pushed. Miles grunted softly, and he felt warmth, tension, yielding.

'All right?'

'Don't be _too_ gentle. I won't break.'

'Oh… is that all right?' The heat surrounded him now, the most wonderful feeling, smooth and slick and twitching rapidly.

'Is that it?'

'Watch what you're saying.'  He pushed his hips forward a little to make the point.

'No, I mean it doesn't hurt. Why doesn't it hurt? Aah...'

'Did you want it to hurt?'

'No… just… didn't think I could do this.' He was gasping; Richard could feel it through his body as well as hear his rapid breathing. 'It just… just goes in. But it's so fucking _big.'_

'I like that better than "is that it".' He kissed the back of Miles' neck. 'I'm going to start moving now. Tell me if I need to slow down.' He inched deeper, felt Miles tensing and relaxing, drew back and pushed deeper, pressed him down onto the bed and sank in completely.

'Oh God,' Miles said faintly.

'Want me to fuck it in and out?'

'Fuck you.' A brief flash of a smile over his shoulder.

'Maybe later. Tell me how it feels.'

'Very hot… very thick… very, very full. It - don't laugh - it feels like I need to pee.'

'I think you're too hard for that. Does it feel _good?'_

'Oh, yes. Come on.'

'Like that?' He pumped his hips, felt Miles grunt and gasp, kissed the nape of his neck again, sucking and nipping.

'Harder.'

'Sure? You're so tight...'

'I'm warmed up now. Come on and fuck me. Ah! Yes. Bounce on me. Fuck my butt, fuck it hard.'

'You're very _vocal_ too.'

'So talk back. Ah! I love how you kiss me.'

'You're so beautiful…I can't not. Ohhh… oh Miles.' He moaned, sucking the soft side of Miles' neck, pumping more rapidly, revelling in the sweet friction between them, embarrassed by the loudness of the slapping sound of his hips against Miles' rump, but somehow that shameful feeling only excited him more. 'Oh, you - you - ah! Miles…'

'Stop stop stop.'

'Am I hurting you?'

'No… no, I just want to… pull out so I can turn over.' He twisted under Richard, drew up and spread his legs, urged him back in. 'Now kiss me. Kiss me. Mmmm…' They rolled together, kissing hungrily, sloppily, thrusting against each other, fast and slow and fast again, Miles rubbing himself frantically with one hand and clutching at Richard's back with the other.

'I'm - I'm nearly…' He bit his lip, arching his head back. 'Keep fucking me, keep - ah!'

'Come for me. Come on, come for me, let it all go.'

Miles went silent again, except for his rapid breathing, his face transformed by bliss as he sprayed Richard's belly with sticky warmth. A long, low groan escaped him as he grew limp, his hand jerking arhythmically, slowing down.

'Is it all right if I go a little longer? I'm so close.'

'God, yes. Come inside me. Come on. Give it to me. You can fuck me just as hard as you want to. I'm all yours, I'm just for you. God, you're hot.'

'Ohh… Miles…' He slumped on top of him, drained, his whole body thrumming with delight and release. 'Oh… thank you.'

'Thank _you.'_ Miles kissed his cheek. 'Now you _are_ smothering me a little.'

'Sorry.'

'It's okay… I like my big strong heavy man. Try and roll on your side. That's right… that's great. Mmm.' He lay with his leg slung over Richard's hip, laced his arms around him and kissed him slowly and deeply, tasting his lips and tongue as if they were melting sweets.

'You're so beautiful.'

'I know, you said.' Sly little smile.

'I get the impression,' Richard said, 'that you weren't being completely honest with either of us when you said I was so not your type.'

'Okay, shut up.'

'How long have you liked me?' He could feel himself smirking again.

'When did I meet you? You should remember. You lived through it in order.'

'I think it was 1954.'

'Then I've liked you longer than I've been alive. How's that?'

'That's pretty wonderful. I feel very special.'

'Did you like me too?'

'Honestly… at that time, I didn't feel that way about anyone. I didn't fall for anyone, love or lust, for a very, very long time. It's as if that part of me was… dormant?'

'But it woke up.'

'It did. You woke it up, I think.'

'How did I do that?'

'I don't know. There wasn't any one thing, or one moment. You crept up on me, till I knew I needed to kiss you. And then it was awake and alive and pretty much unstoppable.'

'I was hoping it was my smooth move with the grey hair.'  He stroked Richard's sweat-damp hair back from his forehead. 'That was pretty seductive of me.'

'Your timing was terrible.'

'I know. I'm glad we got a chance later.' His fingers kept stroking, lightly, dreamily, brushing his temples and tracing down one sideburn. 'You have such pretty eyes. I can't believe I just had sex with a guy.'

'That was a non-sequitur… but I know what you mean.'

'I think we were even pretty good at it. But we should definitely practise and get better.'

'We can practise whenever you want.'

'We really can, can't we,' Miles said wonderingly. 'We can do whatever we want. It doesn't matter. Hell, if I want to watch gay porn I can, I've got nothing to prove any more.'

'Do you even _like_ girls?'

'Of course I do.'

'Tell me a girl you like.'

'Someone we know, or someone famous like a model or an actress?'

'Someone we know. I may not have heard of the model or actress.'

'Claire. I mean, cleaned-up, non-feral Claire. You take a good look at her in the morning, see what I mean.'

'That was quick. I think I believe you.'

'I mean, she was still pretty hot when she was feral, but she was kind of rank.' He yawned in Richard's face.

'You sleepy?'

'Oh, yeah, just a tiny bit.'

'Want to go to sleep just like this?'

'WIth the tip of your dick still in me? It sounds nice, but I really need to take a leak.'

'Damn… I can't think of any way to manage that without moving.'

'I know. Doesn't it suck?'

'And I need to as well.'

'We could go together. That'd be very gay of us.'

'Sneak down there?'

'Put our pants back on first. Naked sneaking could cause talk.'

'Then back to bed, and I can go to sleep holding you?'

'I think so. That sounds nice to me.'

 

\---

 

They woke late, with a sunbeam coming through a gap between the curtains and lying hot across their faces. Miles grumbled and hid his face in Richard's chest, his breath tickling.

'Good morning,' Richard murmured.

'Good morning.' He lifted his head and rested it more comfortably on Richard's shoulder.

'How are you?'

'My ass is killing me. Sometime today, we're getting some real lube. You're not fucking me again till we do.'

'Other than your poor, sweet, sore ass?'

A slow, lazy smile spread across his face. 'Fantastic. Like I should glow all over.'

'I think I know what you mean. Although I'm sore too. Look at my back. Those are your claw-marks.'

'Not sorry.' He did made a dab at kissing them better, though, while Richard lay comfortably on his front, nestled into the pillows.

'Here's what I think,' he murmured after a while.

'Yes?'

'We stay here till we get over our jet lag and get some things sorted out, some money and things like that. And then we go on vacation, and I make you feel fantastic every day.'

'You're a smart man, Richard Alpert, you make good plans.' He kissed the small of Richard's back and trailed his tonguetip up the length of his spine, coming to rest and nuzzle at the back of his neck.

'If you don't want to fuck, perhaps you shouldn't do that.'

'Or what?' Miles kissed the spot just between his shoulderblades that he could never quite reach himself.

'Or… I'll be frustrated all day. You wouldn't do that to me, would you?'

'I'd be suffering too. But also kind of enjoying the fact that you were going crazy wanting me and couldn't do anything about it yet.' He stopped the kissing, though, and lay down beside Richard, watching his face.

'That's going to happen anyway. We're going to have to get up and see the others at some stage. I wouldn't feel right pawing you in front of them.'

'True, that… I mean, I don't want it to be this big secret, but maybe we'll just sorta let them in on it bit by bit, and try and give the impression we got together gradually instead of jumping each other's bones the first chance we got.'

'So we seem a little less degenerate?'

'Yeah. Like we held hands first.' Miles grinned at him. 

'I like how your eyes crinkle at the corners when you smile.'

'You're getting mushy now.'

'You're talking about holding hands.'

'Here.' Miles took his hand and clasped it firmly, holding it between them, stroking the inside of his wrist with his thumb. 'See, I can do mush as well as smut.'

'Smush?'

'Yeah, lots of smush.'

'Come here, smush.' They were curled together, kissing, when there was a discreet tap at the door and Denise's voice informed them that it was eight o'clock, that she had left clean clothes for them in the hall, and that breakfast would be ready downstairs soon.

'Thank you,' Miles called back. They waited while her footsteps receded.

'We actually have to get up, don't we,' Miles said reluctantly.

'Yes. And I have to be responsible, and organise things.'

'Goddamn things.'

 

\---

 

Breakfast consisted of large quantities of toast, scrambled eggs, thick meaty shoulder bacon and grilled tomatoes.

Claire really was looking pretty now that she was clean and well-brushed, her hair soft and shiny and curling on her shoulders, although her eyes looked a little distant. Denise had made no attempt, perhaps wisely, to match clothes to people other than getting approximately the right sizes, so that they looked oddly like members of a family, or perhaps a cult, in khaki trousers and plain white teeshirts. The only thing breaking up the effect of a uniform was that they still wore their own shoes.

They ate quietly, although with less haste than the night before. Claire covered slices of toast in crunchy peanut butter and wolfed them down. On the second slice, her eyes began to leak tears, although she didn't sob; just wept and munched silently.

'Are you okay?' Kate asked her softly.

'I just really missed peanut butter,' Claire said, a bit stickily.

When they had all eaten themselves to a standstill, Richard realised that it was time for him to act like the chairman.

'So,' he said, brushing crumbs from his lap and dabbing bacon grease from the corners of his mouth, 'I think we should talk about what you would all like to do now.'

'Go home,' Claire said immediately. 'To Mum, and Aaron. I need to be with them again.'

'We'll arrange that for you,' Richard promised. 'Transportation, accomodation, and any other assistance you may need.' 

'Can I go with her?' Kate asked.

'Of course. I think, in your case, a new identity may be useful.'

'That's putting it mildly.'

'So are we all just trusting you now?' Ford asked skeptically.

'I know that may be difficult, but think about it. What would I stand to gain by tricking you? What kind of hidden agenda would I have?'

'The problem is with you people, it could be some damn nutty thing no sane person would anticipate.'

'Because everything so far was just leading up to our _real_ master plan,' Richard said, smiling wryly.

'I think I just need a little longer to figure out what I want to do. Thanks so much.'

'Take as much time as you need. This is a safe house.' He looked around the table. Frank looked irresolute, breaking up his toast crusts, and never mind how Miles looked (ridiculously good).

'You can get me back home, too?' Frank asked. 'I mean, I know I'll never work for an airline again. But I still want to fly. Maybe teach.'

'We'll make sure you can do that.'

'No hurry. Honestly, I could go right back to bed and be just as happy,' Frank said.

'I hear that,' Miles said.

'How about you?' Ford asked him.

'Man, I don't know yet. I just want to hang out for a few days. Sleep a lot. Watch some TV and read the papers and catch up on the world. Not only have we been out of it for three years, I'd got used to life in the seventies. It's going to be weird… but good, I think.'

'Then we'll make an immediate start on the arrangements for Claire and Kate,' Richard offered, 'and as for the rest, we'll cross bridges when we come to them.'

'I'll call Theresa,' said Denise, who was on her own today, no Barry. She had been staying in the background, bringing more food to the table and clearing away empty dishes as necessary. 'She can get here by afternoon, so we can get cracking on the documents.'

'Thank you, Denise, that would be a great help.' She nodded and went off to take care of things, leaving the six of them in an uncertain silence.

'I'm going for a walk,' said Frank, pushing his chair back. 'That okay? Just to stretch my legs, see what's around here.'

'That's fine,' Richard said.

'Don't walk through any long grass,' Claire said, 'and don't put your hands anywhere you can't see.' She shrugged. 'Snakes and spiders. Welcome to Australia.' Frank pulled a face and went out through the ranchslider door.

'Guess I'll see if there's any news on TV,' Ford muttered. He slouched off to the living room, and the women followed - Kate looking worried about him, Claire looking worried about being away from Kate. That left Miles and Richard, and the wreckage of breakfast. Miles cleared his throat.

'I have a joke,' he announced.

'Go on.'

'What's this?' He laid his hand on the table, palm up and fingers curled in limply.

'I don't know.'

'A dead one of these,' Miles said, abruptly flipping his hand over and running it across the table, like a spider, and up Richard's arm to pinch the inside of his elbow.

'That's a terrible joke,' Richard said, laughing anyway.

'It's my icebreaker. You should really get that looked at. I think it bit you.'

'Snakes and spiders?'

'Yeah, that's why I thought of it.' He leaned back in his chair, tilting it on two legs. 'Seems like we don't have to worry about spending a lot of time with the others today.'

'I'm going to ask Denise if I can borrow the car. We're not far from a town. I don't expect to find excellence in menswear but I think we can do better than this.' He pulled at the front of his shirt.

'Mind if I come with you? Just for the ride? It'd be nice to get out and see that the real world's still there.' 

Denise's permission and car keys secured, they headed out to the garage. Miles linked his hand into Richard's on the way.

'What's that?' Richard asked.

'Laying groundwork. And just trying something out.' He let go again and stuck his hands in his pockets. 'Nah, doesn't feel like me.'

'That's all right.' He unlocked Denise's car, not the minivan but a small blue Barina, and adjusted the driver's seat to accommodate his legs.

'You have any money?' Miles asked, getting in on the passenger side. 'Australian money, I mean?'

'I have a credit card Barry gave me. Ought to do. And if there's anything _you_ want, I will be happy to treat you.' He started the car and carefully pulled out onto the driveway, then the road, the feeling of a vehicle under his control unfamiliar.

'Buying things in stores again. It'll be a change from getting things from the Dharma quartermaster.'

'And a change from mail order that arrives via submarine.'

'How far away from the house do we get before we stop talking like other people can hear us?' Miles asked, smiling.

'Don't put your hand on my knee. I can't drive if you do that. No, don't put your hand on my dick either. Imagine how you would feel if we got off the island safe and sound and then died crashing into a tree.'

'I would feel dead, I imagine.'

'But only you would be able to confirm that - and you'd be dead so you couldn't.'

'What a cruelly ironic twist.'

'Rubbing my thigh is also not a good idea.'

'Yeah it is. You have great legs. Expect them to get groped a lot.'

'I honestly can't drive if you're going to touch me like that. It's much too distracting.'

'Okay, okay, model of virtue, hands folded in my lap.' He spent a little time looking out the window, watching the road, enjoying the blue sky and the big landscape. 'You know, even when I'm not feeling you up, you can't drive worth a damn.'

'Oh, shut up.'

'You change gear like my granny.'

'I learned to drive late in life, all right? Do you want to take over?'

'Yes, yes I do.' 

Richard pulled over and they got out and changed places, Miles stopping Richard as they passed in front of the car to kiss and goose him. 'You're hot even if you're a shitty driver.'

He took off, heading into what could charitably be called the suburbs of a small town, gently baking under December sun.

'All right. You are a better driver than me,' Richard admitted.

'God, it's weird to see Christmas decorations in summertime. What date is it, anyway?'

'The fifteenth. Two thousand seven,' Richard added, as an afterthought.

'Thanks,' Miles said, with a quick smile. 'Every January it takes me weeks to get the hang of writing the new year on things. I'm just going to get used to oh-seven and it'll be oh-eight.'

'Do you celebrate Christmas?'

'If you consider getting drunk and trying to score a celebration. You?'

'I didn't for a long time. Ben liked holding celebrations, though, so we always had Christmas for Alex's benefit. A ham dinner and presents, at the very least.'

Miles flicked him a glance. 'It's really shitty what happened to that girl.'

'It is. But we don't have to talk about it, or dwell on it. I'd rather think about the fresh start we get now.' Above all, he didn't want to sink back into the horror and guilt of it. The sun was shining, the air was warm, he was free. He put his hand on Miles' knee and squeezed, just for a little payback.

'Ah, see, I'm such a good driver, I can handle that.' Miles smirked and pulled onto the main drag of the little town, then into one of the angled parking spaces along it. It wasn't a particularly sophisticated place. They even spotted a few older men wearing dress shorts and knee socks. The dusty menswear shop did, however, provide Richard with a decent pair of linen trousers, some striped shirts and a summerweight jacket, and Miles with cargo pants and a few different teeshirts. They changed in the shop's dressing rooms so that they didn't look quite so much like they were trying to be twins, emerged into the sun, and spent a while wandering around, quite contentedly, looking in at shop windows and generally passing judgement on small-town life in Queensland.

When the entertainment value of that ebbed, they found a supermarket and bought bits and pieces, including cheap sunglasses, a stack of magazines and newspapers, some reasonably good beer and a plastic picnic mat. They took the latter two to the banks of a small, sleepy river which meandered near the town, and stretched out in the sun, imbibing. Miles tried to make a whistle from a blade of grass and produced alarming squeaking and squawking noises before discarding it and resting back on his elbows.

'Now it feels like a vacation,' he said. 'I guess this counts as a free trip, anyway. I always sort of wanted to see Australia.'

'Anywhere in particular?'

'The Outback stuff, Ayer's Rock, things like that. Those big empty red landscapes.'

'I want to go to Europe. I grew up thinking of myself as Spanish but I've never actually been to Spain. And all around the Mediterranean. Maybe down to Egypt.'

'Peer amid the pyramids.' Miles sipped at his beer thoughtfully and lay back, holding the bottle upright on his chest. 'Sounds good. I'm in.'

Richard hitched himself up on his elbow alongside him. 'Ever been to any of those places?'

'Nope. The island was actually my first overseas trip, unless you count Mexico one spring break. And that wasn't over _seas_. We just drove down.'

'Speak any other languages?'

'English and bad high-school Spanish. Ahem. Eres guapo.'

'No está mal.'

'Yo maté a esta cerveza.' He drained the bottle and put it to one side, folding his arms under his head.

'Not idiomatic, but it works.'

'Yeah, I wouldn't know the Spanish for idiomatic.'

'Idiomático.' He bent and kissed Miles' cheek.

'What do you know. Everything does sound sexier in Spanish.'

'Do you know "besame"?' The lips now, lightly and softly.

'Isn't this like a public park? People might come along and see us.'

'I only want to kiss you. Don't get ideas.' Longer, but still light and gentle, only parting his own lips at the very last, letting Miles begin to respond and then drawing back a little so he had to follow, lifting his head.

'You're good at this,' Miles breathed.

'I know.' He kissed the smile that drew, pressed very slightly deeper, enjoying the ripe softness of Miles' lips over again, stroking the curve of his face, his jawline, trailing his fingertips down his neck, feeling him shiver despite the heavy warmth of the day.

'We really need a private place,' Miles said.

'That sounds like ideas.'

'You try not getting ideas when someone kisses you like that.'

'It's just kissing. What are you, a teenager?'

'That's exactly what it's like. Horny as hell and nowhere to go for privacy.'

'Aren't car back seats traditional?' He leaned back, since it didn't really seem fair to tease too much.

'In that little car? We'd cripple ourselves.'

'I didn't say it was appealing, just traditional.'

'I haven't been dippy for someone like this since I was a teenager, though. You?'

'I never was a teenager. We didn't have them when I was growing up. Who were you dippy for then?'

'Rita Truong. We'd watch every new episode of _The X-Files_ together in her parents' rec room and make out after. One night when her parents were out we popped each other's cherry. Right after "Darkness Falls"… which really wasn't the most romantic episode. But as I say, her parents were out.'

'And that's always romantic.'

'So I guess in your day there was also no sex before marriage.' Miles nudged him in the side.

'Of course there was. There were just, you know, certain rules. Once you were properly engaged, most people accepted that you could start sleeping together, even if you didn't live together yet.'

'Seriously?'

'Of course seriously. It was good luck if a bride was pregnant when she got married. Isabella was, or we thought she was… but either we were mistaken or it didn't take. It never did take… my poor girl just couldn't hold on to a pregnancy.'

'That's sad…' Miles looked serious and a little dismayed by the change of mood.

'It was… but we loved each other. I didn't care as much about possible babies as I did about her. I asked her if she wanted to stop sleeping together because it was so hard on her to keep miscarrying, but she said that would be giving up hope and anyway she'd be too lonely.'

'I've never even thought about having kids. Or got anyone pregnant, that I know of. I mean I hope I haven't. I don't want to be one of those guys. Jeez, how did we get into the heavy thoughts?'

'I was trying to get us away from salacious ideas, but maybe I overcorrected.'

'Still sex-related, though.'

'It's a problem, isn't it. I'm going to be thinking like this as long as I'm close to you.'

'That's what I mean about dippy. It's a really nice feeling, but it makes you kind of dumb, doesn't it.' Miles half-rolled towards him and tapped on his temple. 'Cause all you're thinking is "I want it, I want it, I want it".'

'Not "it". Him. You.'

'I was thinking,' Miles went on.

'With the big brain or the little brain?'

'Well, you tell me. This is the public consumption version of how we get together. We really hit it off today, talking in the car.'

'All right.'

'So we can be friendly when we get back.'

'How friendly?'

'Oh, a little less friendly than currently. Like, your hand on my hip there? Too friendly.'

'I could move it up to your waist… or down to your thigh… or just sort of orbit there.'

'Now you're just toying with me.'

'Well, yes.' He lifted the front of Miles' shirt, brushed his stomach, slipped his fingertips into the waistband of his pants and stroked, back and forth across the line of hair that trailed downward from his navel.

'Stop it, you're making me hard.' 

'When you smile like that, saying "stop it" isn't very convincing. And I'm only touching your stomach. You're awfully sensitive.'

'Seriously, quit it, I can't do sex in public places. I've still got some inhibitions, and I'm keeping that one.' Miles rolled onto his stomach. 'And _don't_ touch my ass.'

'Okay. I promise.' Richard folded his hands behind his head. 'I'll just look forward to tonight.'

'Hurry up, tonight.'

 

\---

 

Their supply of magazines and papers made them popular guys when they got back to the house. Kate and Claire had just finished their meeting with Theresa, who was to produce the documents they needed for Kate to stay in Australia, and had dropped off a set of stock ID for Richard, just in case.

'If you need anything else, a different nationality or name, just let me know,' she said, before nervously taking her leave. She didn't seem to want to stick around, and he wondered what was happening within their organisation. A change this enormous was unprecedented in anyone's memory. They might see schisms; how would people who had loyally followed Jacob all their lives adapt to Hugo? Jacob had seemed so authoritative, if only because he was demonstrably ancient; can you follow a deity who has no memory of anything much before the 1980s? Hugo would actually be younger than many of his followers, if they continued to believe.

But that really wasn't his problem any more. He would help if he was needed, of course he would, but now he was… retired, he supposed. Not too retired. The fact that he was currently loafing on a couch reading a news magazine's year-in-review issue should not be taken as evidence of lapsing into old fart-dom. The others were similarly disposed around the room, catching up on what politicians and film stars and sports teams and natural disasters had been up to, catching up with the idea that these things mattered again. It was hard to do, and he found his attention wandering, gliding over to where Miles was not so much reading the _Courier Mail_ as falling asleep behind a screen of it.

 

\---

 

Miles dreamed of visiting Egypt, and finding a McDonald's built into the base of a pyramid, which he wanted to show to Richard, but by the time he found him and got him to come and look (difficult, because he kept wandering off to look at camels), it had turned into a bookshop run by his dad and all the books were a new edition of _Profiles in Courage_ with a chapter about Jack Shephard. In the back shelves of the bookshop they started fooling around, but were interrupted by Jim, or possibly Jin, yelling about a sandstorm. 

The room began to fill with sand, piling in as if from a dump truck and knocking over bookshelves, and he was getting covered, buried, unable to breathe, until he woke up, with the newspaper twisted around him, on his front with his face wedged in between the back and seat cushions of the couch. At first he couldn't understand where he was or what was happening, but gradually realised that he had dozed off,  and from the feel of his cheek, neck and chin, had drooled quite a lot in his sleep.

He wiped his face on his arm and looked up. People seemed to have drifted off; the only one left in the living-room was Jim, who was reading _TIME_ with his face all scrunched up.

'Hey,' Miles said blearily.

'Hey. I need new reading glasses,' Jim replied. 'I'm gonna have a bitch of a headache if I don't stop.' He turned a page and frowned at the new article.

'Richard too.' He wiped at his chin again, annoyed at how his whiskers still felt soggy, and rolled over, sitting up in a crackle and rip of crumpled paper. 'So new glasses go on the shopping list. How long was I out?'

'Hour or so.'

'Where're the others?'

'Girls're taking a nap in their room. Lapidus found a grill outside and decided he was gonna barbecue tonight. Think Alpert's helping him clean it off; thing was covered in birdshit.' He put down his magazine and pinched the bridge of his nose. 'Man, I can't even take my mind off things.'

'What kind of things?' Miles asked. 'I mean, if you want to talk about it. I understand if you don't.' He settled himself on his belly, with his arms on the arm of the couch and his chin on top of them, still feeling sluggish. He wanted to be kind, especially since his own life was feeling pretty good at the moment, but hoped he wasn't letting himself in for too much soul-baring and gut-spilling.

'Ah, just everything. All the shit. What to do.' Jim rolled and unrolled the magazine in his hands. 'Here I am, you know, back in the world. On the island I was somebody… I had some self respect. And here all I am's an ex-con.'

'Two senses of the word,' Miles observed. He thought about it a little. 'I mean, you're ex, right? You're not going back to that.'

'Couldn't. It's that darn self respect. You?'

'I wasn't a con man. Exploiting the grieving, sure, but I could do what I said I did, and I didn't take the money if I couldn't do the job.' He paused. 'But no. Not going back to it.'

'What're you gonna do for money? Think Widmore's going to pay what he owes you?'

'Uhh… well, they might be able to argue that I didn't do the job… and since Widmore himself is kind of dead, it might be hard to walk in and claim my one point six million.' He shifted his weight and felt the little pouch of diamonds safe and sound in his pocket, little hard nubs digging into his hip.

'You know, if you wanted to work in security, or police work, that kind of thing, you'd be good.' He was twisting the magazine into a cone now. 'I kind of screwed that career path for myself, but no reason you can't do it.'

'No reason _you_ can't do it. I bet Richard's guys can set you up with a new identity, new background, clean record. Maybe a couple of speeding tickets just so you don't look _too_ squeaky clean.'

'Yeah, but… the reason I'd want that is the same reason I can't have that. You know? Wouldn't be honest.'

'Yeah… I guess.'

'And I really don't want to take anything from him, any more than we already are. Don't wanna owe him. Who knows where that might go.'

'How do you mean?'

'It's not smart to give someone too much over you.' Jim looked him in the eye when he said that, speaking kind of deliberately. It made his stomach cramp a little, wondering what Jim knew or thought he knew. He didn't want to think he was so transparent. And if it wasn't secret, that killed some of the fun.

'He hasn't got anything over us that we haven't got over him,' he said calmly. 'And I don't think you need to be thinking about it like that. Why would he _want_ to trick us, or get one over on us? He just wants to start over. I believe him.'

'You guys are friends now?'

'Yeah. I think we are.'

'You feel like you know him? Really know him?'

'Come on, you know him too. You negotiated with him, made a deal with him. He stood by that deal, didn't he?' He watched Jim's hands, spinning the cone between his palms. 'Anyway, is Richard all that's bothering you?'

Jim let the magazine unravel. 'You remember I told you about Cassidy. About Clementine.'

'Yeah.'

'I mean… realistically.'

'Yeah?'

'What do they want with a piece of shit like me showing up? Messing up their lives? Clementine's gotta be mad at me. Better off without me.'

'Maybe you should let her be the judge. You know. Maybe she'll think you're a piece of shit, maybe she'll think you're not so bad.'

Jim made a little tear in the edge of the magazine cover and started peeling away a long straight strip. 'Say I go see her, and she doesn't want to see me?'

'Then you stick around. You just… stick around. Even if she's mad at you, at least she's got _you_ to be mad at, right?'

'Maybe.' Another long strip. 'And what if it's too little, too late?'

'It's only too late if one of you is dead. So why wait?'

'You are one tactful guy.'

'Hey, I don't wanna have to take a message. It gets depressing.'

'Sorry I made you. With Juliet.'

'That's okay. Jeez, you were upset. I don't blame you.'

'You ever get any clearer idea what she meant? What "worked"?'

'I don't know. I don't know if she knew, really. The only other thing I can tell you is the feeling I got with the words. She felt happy. That's all, just happy, like a warm, mild happy, like something _nice_ just happened.'

'Just nice?'

'Just nice.' He paused, framing his words. 'Honestly, Jim, I don't think she had a clue what was going on. I think her brain was pretty much scrambled and she just went to her happy place. I think we should just be glad she wasn't scared or hurting, you know?'

'She deserved so much better,' Jim said. His mouth was a tight, straight line and his eyes were wet. 'She always deserved better than what she got.'

'She was awesome,' Miles agreed. 'I mean, she could save lives, and fix cars, and she was a good shot, and she made great banana bread… sorry, that's stupid.'

'No it's not. It was good. She was a woman of many talents.'

It seemed to please Jim to hear her praised, so Miles went on. 'She was kind. She thought about other people no matter how much life screwed her over. She always had time for me. For anyone.'

'If I had money, I'd want to do something for her. A memorial. A scholarship for girls, or something.'

If he were really a nice person, Miles reflected, at this point he'd bring out the diamonds and give Jim one. A diamond for Juliet, not like that little cubic zirconia ring he'd had Miles mail-order for him, so it would be a surprise. He kind of wanted to, but on the other hand, he didn't even know enough about jewels to know which one he should give him. What if he gave him a small one that turned out to be the most valuable because it was the best quality, or something? He wanted to be nice, but not _dumb._ He made himself a tentative promise that once he got these things valued properly, he'd help Jim out. He settled for saying 'She'd want you to be happy,' which seemed like a safe bet.

'Yeah,' Jim said, the kind of 'yeah' that didn't really mean anything, just meant he heard Miles.

'I say, go see your daughter,' Miles said. 'Give it a chance.'

'Yeah?'

'Yeah. Maybe you can help her turn out awesome too.' He levered himself off the couch and got up, giving Jim's shoulder a pat. 'Give it a chance.' Pat, pat, feeling kind of useless, wanting to withdraw now. 'I'm gonna go see about this grill situation.'

He found Frank and Richard attacking the grill, a cinderblock structure in the back garden, with a wire brush they'd found somewhere and a metal spatula from the kitchen. The sun was lowering in the sky a little, and they both looked sweaty and grubby, but cheerfully occupied.

'Hey,' he said. 'Get you guys a beer or something?'

'That'd be terrific,' Frank said, wiping his arm across his forehead. 'Think we've nearly got this baby ready to go. You guys mind making another run to the store? We're gonna need charcoal, meat, some marinade stuff - I'll give you a list.'

'You're going to entrust us with the secret recipe?' Richard asked, knocking off a last chunk of rust and fitting the metal grill back into its slots.

'Only the ingredients. You don't know the quantities. The method. Therein lies the secret, my friend.' Frank pulled up the hem of his teeshirt and blotted his face, exposing the finest chest rug currently resident in the north of Australia.

'Frank claims to know the secret of a marinade fit for the gods,' Richard reported. 'Apparently, it's what cows want to happen to them when they die.' He dusted off his hands and jingled the car keys in his pocket. 'Come and help me carry charcoal?'

'Absolutely.'

 

\---

 

Miles had never actually got any psychic impression of an animal after it had been jointed or filleted and cooked, but he thought that if the cow or cows that contributed to their dinner that night could have known that they would be rendered so completely delicious, it might have made them feel that life was worthwhile, after all. Everyone ate, exclaimed, and ate some more, until they were so full of steak, salad and beer that it almost immobilised them.

'A toast,' he said, raising one of the squat little brown bottles of beer that Claire called stubbies, 'to Frank Lapidus, pilot extraordinaire and really fuckin' good cook.'

'Thank you,' Frank said, with a modest little head and shoulders bow. 'I aim to please. The secret ingredient is my earwax.' That got a chorus of groans and a wadded-up slice of bread to his forehead.

'Even if I thought that was true, I'd still want some more,' Claire admitted. 'And it's just so nice to have someone make a meal _for me.'_ She mopped up the last of the juice from her plate with a bit of bread. There was a moment of odd discomfort, because what do you say to someone who is essentially expressing relief that she no longer has to live like a fugitive in the jungle? Then Frank asked if anyone thought they could force down a little more steak, and they all thought they could.

They spent the evening normalising again, watching TV, occasionally burping (Frank's magic marinade was delicious but did seem to cause a certain urpiness). Miles managed to charm Claire by producing a Violet Crumble candy bar he'd got at the supermarket, having overheard her mention it to Kate as one of the things she was looking forward to back in civilisation. Instead of being remotely violet, it was golden sugar honeycomb stuff covered in chocolate (she let him have a taste).

'People _say_ a Violet Crumble is basically the same as a Crunchie, but I can definitely taste a difference,' she said. 'Do you want to play Scrabble?'

'Sure, if you don't mind how bad I suck.'

'That'll just be good for my self esteem.' She gave him a sweet little grin, and he half wished he hadn't started something with Richard, amazing and exciting as that was, because, well, look at her. Kate gave him some kind of protective stink-eye while Claire was getting the Scrabble box from the shelf by the TV, so he smiled back blandly and just played the best game of Scrabble he could (not very good, unless you counted occasional bursts of combined luck and inspiration, OBLIQUE for example).

After he won the first game, Claire pushed for a rematch, claiming she was just getting into her groove, and during the second game Richard got up and announced he was heading for bed.

'Try not to wake me when you come up,' he told Miles in passing.

'Yeah, no problem.' His game got worse as he heard the faint sound of Richard's shower, and Claire mocked him for putting 'ASS' down on a triple word score.

'It's a perfectly cromulent word,' he mumbled.

'So that's the level your mind operates on.'

'It could mean donkey.' He forfeited his next turn, before pleading stupidity due to tiredness and asking to put the game on hold till tomorrow. As he got up to go, Claire took hold of his wrist.

'Hey. Thank you,' she said quietly.

'What for?'

'Not being scared of me,' she said, and smiled a little sadly.

 

\---

 

Richard felt Miles was taking a hell of a long time to wrap up a game of Scrabble. All right, giving him time to get through the shower made sense, but here he was all clean and fresh and waiting around in their bedroom like a fool. He turned down the bedcovers, changed his mind two or three times about whether to wear his pyjama pants (no; it was a warm night, and why be coy?), and spent a little while, with a profound sense of embarrassment, inspecting the things Miles had chucked into the supermarket cart as if he were embarrassed too - a box of condoms, a bottle of lubricant, a package of wipes. 

He didn't even know how to put a condom on, he realised, and after some minor dithering and consultation of the package instructions, furtively practised. It looked and felt strange, but he thought he'd done it about right. He heard footsteps in the hall and whipped it off, feeling his cheeks burn, but they went into another of the bedrooms. He lay back on the pillows, starting to feel a little sulky, a little stood up. He thought about Miles this morning, on the riverbank, warm in the sun, complaining cheerfully about how horny he was, and wondered why the hell he wasn't here getting something done about it. 

When he did creep into the room, he was smiling sheepishly, carrying his clothes and wearing a towel. 'Hey. Hope you didn't start without me.' He stopped and his eyes widened a bit. 'Wow.'

'Wow what?'

'Wow for you, and the, the nudity. Really. Ten out of ten.' He hung his pants over the back of a chair and dropped the rest of the bundle on the seat, much less carefully. 'Do I get a display like this every night?'

'It's not really a display. I'm just lying here.' He started to sit up as Miles joined him, but didn't resist being nudged back down and straddled. 'You feel very warm.'

'Fresh out of the shower. I thought about coming straight up to save time, but then I thought nah, I don't want to make him think jeez, why am I banging this smelly creep.' He began kissing Richard's neck, soft, wet, open-mouth kisses with a lot of fluttery tongue.

'I appreciate that.' He closed his eyes, feeling a deep wave of warmth roll through his body, a deeper flush of heat in his groin. 'Soon we can just get into the shower together.'

'Soon you can just bend me over while we're in there.' The hot, wet circles descended over his collarbone and down his chest, sucking more sharply now. 'Sound good?' His tongue flicked rapidly at his nipple before he drew it in and sucked hard, swirling now, almost bruising.

'Very, very good. Mmm…'

'Or I could bend _you_ over. I've been thinking about that.' A very delicate, controlled bite. 'Have you?'

'Honestly, no… just how much I want to do it to you again.'

'Can I try?' He rested his chin on Richard's chest, looking up at him. 'Fair's fair.'

'You liked it last night. Didn't you?'

'I loved it, but my ass is still sore and like I said, I've been thinking about it. I'm not going to be a dick about it if you don't want to, I just figured I'd ask.' He slid his hands down from Richard's chest, over his hips, to his thighs, back up again, making his skin tingle.

'I'm just… I'm surprised. I guess I took it for granted you wanted it that way.'

'Why?'

'I don't know. You're the younger one.'

'Like there's a rule the younger guy takes it? That's a weird idea.'

'It's an old idea. I think it goes back to the Greeks.'

'We're not Greek. Come on, stop hedging. Do you want to try, or not? You can say no, but say _something.'_

'I guess it's fair.'

'And for all we know you love it so much you never want to switch back.' Miles smiled at him and went back to his kissing, licking, sucking, leaving a ticklish damp trail downward to Richard's waist, where he stopped and skipped straight to his cock, drawing him into luscious heat, drawing hoarse gasps and grunts from his throat.

'I know I love this part.' He arched his back, pushing up into Miles' sweet sucking mouth, ruffling his hands through his short, coarse hair. 'Ohhh… you good, good boy.'

'Donfummymoff.'

'I'm not… not but you try and keep still when someone does this to you.'

'Mm. You want to come now, or after I'm in you?' Looking up at him, rubbing his wet shaft briskly.

'Umm…'

'I promise to make you come. One way or another.'

'God, what a promise.'

'You know I can.'

'You nearly are now.'

'I love the look on your face.' He took him in his mouth again, still looking up at him, eyes warm and mocking.

'Oh - oh - oh God. Oh, that's not fair. Oh…' He caught his breath at the surge of delight that shot through him, a sharp shoot that blossomed to fill him and left him spent and wet and blissful. Miles was sucking him clean, and he almost wanted to tell him to stop, because he was so tender now. It was all right, though, everything was all right, such a gentle mouth.

'That's really not fair,' he repeated, sighing dreamily. 'Now I can't choose. You should have stopped.' He pushed his fingers through Miles' hair again, stroking, and pinched his ear.

'You should be able to hold on, instead of coming like a virgin.'

'Oh, shut up.'

'A fifteen-year-old virgin.'

'You're so far off.'

'But were you a virgin when you were fifteen?'

'Yes.'

'And did you come that fast and easy and hot and messy?'

'Faster if possible. Can't speak to the mess, I just wiped it on my shirt or the sheets without looking.'

'So you didn't like looking to see how the head gets really red and swells right before you come? I loved that.'

'What I did, I mostly did in a hurry and with a strong sense of shame. I wasn't… relaxing and admiring myself in a sunbeam.'

_'That_ is a mental image. Thank you.' Miles hitched himself up to lie alongside Richard, kicking away the towel that had slid down around his legs, taking his hand and bringing it down to his warm, eager erection, twitching into his palm as he touched it. 'Just kiss me and rub it, and I'll be very, very happy.'

'What happened to fucking me?'

'You disappointed?'

'I just thought…' He looked down, concentrating on the job in hand. 'I'd admire _you_ in a sunbeam.'

'You're changing the subject.'

'No, I would. I'm admiring you now.'

'You're playing with my precum, is what you're doing.'

'Look how it stretches.'

'My dick's a toy to you.'

'Your dick's beautiful.' A long, deep kiss, tongues sliding together as his hand slid up and down. 'You can put it in as long as you're careful.'

'Very careful. So careful.' Miles kissed him hastily and sat up, reaching across him to get the condoms from the bedside shelf. He put one on so quickly and neatly it made Richard feel doubly embarrassed at his own fumbling. 'You want to be on your back or your front?' His cock stuck out jauntily, the wet head glistening through the thin rubber.

'I don't even know.'

'May I make a suggestion? Two suggestions. One, don't look so nervous, I'm going to take care of you. Two, lift your leg up, here… put it on my shoulder. Okay. Bring your other knee up, just… yeah, kind of half on your side like that. Good? You can be comfortable… you can see everything I'm doing… and in this position I can't ram you too hard.'

'How do you _know?'_

'Girls have butts too. Come on, calm down. Relax. You know I'm your friend, right?' He stroked Richard's leg, hooked over his shoulder, one hand on his shin, the other moving up and down his thigh. 'Would I hurt you to get myself off? No.'

'It's not that… just… you know, the fact that your ass is still hurting twenty-four hours later is worrying me.' He tried to concentrate on enjoying Miles' hands moving over his thighs and belly.

'That was with spit, not real lube. Also, you did ram me. I'm not blaming you, I was telling you to, but I'm going to go real slow and gentle and treat you like a little lady, okay?' He kissed the soft crease behind Richard's knee.

'Please don't ever call me a little lady.' He was breathing heavily in spite of his nerves, excited by the position even while it embarrassed him.

'You really don't look like a lady.' Miles' gaze was flicking over him, admiring; his eyes were wide and dark, and his lips looked very red and wet. 'But you do look _so_ fucking hot. Is there anything left in here?' He palmed Richard's balls, rolling them very gently in their warm pouch.

'I think so.'

'Hold them up for me.  Out of the way, good. God, you look sexy. You know you're blushing?'

'I'm not blushing. It's hot. You're sweating.' 

'Come on, look at that. Look at my dick pointing right at your ass. That's going in you.' He was half-smiling, not quite in control; he kept shifting his weight, squirming on his knees and heels.

'This is very, very, very embarrassing.' He couldn't look for long.

'That must be why you're getting hard again.' He lubricated his fingers and began to stroke under Richard's balls, working his way down into the cleft. 'You're a little furry here too. You know, your hole's surprisingly pink.'

'Ohhhh… oh, fuck.' He gave up trying to control himself and began to rub and squeeze his balls, giving his other hand to his cock, tugging roughly.

'I'm not even in you yet.'

'Then get in.'

'Sure?' Teasing him with the tip of his cock, rubbing it around the tender centre.

'What?'

'Are you sure you want me in there?'

'Yes… come on…'

'Yeah?'

'Miles, come on, just put it in.'

'What's the magic word?' Sliding his whole, warm, slick shaft up and down his cleft.

_'Please.'_

'Not that one.'

'Oh, fuck…'

'Nearly.' Nudging and drawing back.

'Fuck me,' he sighed. 'Just fuck me.' He could feel the round head pressing and spreading him, stretching his little opening, surely too little.

'God, you're tight,' Miles whispered. 'Push. Like you're trying to push me out.'

'But…'

'Trust me. Push. _Yes._ Oh, yes. Can you feel me going in? Look at it, lift your head and look at it, look at you getting fucked.'

'Hurts.' The word escaped in a rush, his jaw clenched too tight to say anything else.

'It's okay, it's okay. That's just the head. I'll stop, okay? I'll just stop and hold still and let you get used to that.'

'Miles, it hurts, I think we're doing it wrong.'

'It only hurts 'cause you're clamping down on it. It's okay. Take a deep breath. Just… just imagine your ass opening up so it can take anything.' His breathing was hoarse and ragged, and his arm around Richard's leg was tight enough to leave a white mark that flushed deep pink when he shifted his grip. He turned his head and kissed his knee, hard, while he rubbed around the slippery join between their bodies with his fingertips.

'It… it hurts a little less now.'

'I can't believe I'm fucking you. I want to _show_ you this. Sit up.'

'Okay… okay.' He pushed himself up on shaking arms and looked. 'God.' It looked completely obscene, and wonderful, and his pulse was thumping so hard in his chest and his ass and his temples he felt dizzy.

'I just… I felt so incredible about getting fucked last night, I want you to feel that same way.' Miles leaned in and kissed him, off-centre, missing his mouth slightly.

'That's… that's actually sweet.' He leaned back on his elbows.

'How's it feel now?'

'Hot. Burning hot.'

'Still hurt?'

'No… no, just hot.'

'Good hot?'

'Okay hot.'

'Can I try to work it in a little deeper?'

'Very slowly.' He drew in and released a deep, gusty breath, stroking himself again, trying to distract from any pain with pleasure.

'Very, very slowly,' Miles agreed, edging forward.

'Oh, _fuck!'_

'Hurts?'

'No… no, just _weird._ It's going up, it's going in, oh God that's… oh…'

'Good?'

'Almost.'

'Now?'

'You can - you can keep - fuck, what's that?' A shock of pleasure had gone through him so unexpectedly it almost made him laugh; if it had made a sound it would have been _boing._

'Let me see can I get it again.' Again, deeper and fuller and hotter, a little explosion inside, some weird deep place in behind his balls. 'Did I get it?'

_'Yes.'_

'See, now it starts to pay off, right?'

'Can you - can you get it a little to the right - it's like you're on the side of it -' This time when Miles pushed into him his head snapped back and he made a sound he didn't think he'd ever made in his life, somewhere between a grunt and a yelp and a growl.

_'Now_ you like it.' Miles sounded fiercely glad and proud. He drew back a bit and thrust in deeper, clutching at Richard's thigh, working his thick shaft in until he could go no further. Richard heard him say something else, but he didn't really understand it, couldn't have answered, just wanted that wonderful pumping to continue, that sweet deep shock repeating and increasing and beating inside him again and again. It was over too soon, but then he had Miles' mouth again, and quickly burst into bliss.

He lay sprawled on his back, legs spread and bent like a frog's, Miles' head pillowed on his thigh, slowly coming down, feeling completely unfamiliar to himself. The first time he tried to speak it just didn't work; his mouth stuck dryly together until his tongue popped free from his palate and he swallowed a few times.

'Miles,' he said. 

'Here.' A wet kiss on his inner thigh, right by the crease of his groin.

'Good.' He reached down weakly and stroked his hair, finding it as wet with sweat as if he'd been swimming.

'Yes I am. Thanks.'

'Thanks…'

'Sleeping now.'

'Mmm.'

 

\---

 

He woke again a while before Miles did, mostly because his leg was asleep, and had to slide away from him to stretch it out. Miles just curled up against the footboard of the bed and slept on contentedly.

He'd just worked the pins and needles out of his leg when he realised that, other than a slight ache, he wasn't in any pain. That impressed him so much he had to wake Miles up to tell him about it. The first response he got was 'No, go away,' but with persistence and kissing he consented to open his eyes and listen.

'Well, that is great,' he said, and yawned hugely. 'Congratulations. I'm gonna get _in_ the bed instead of sleeping down here like the dog.'

'I'll go with you.' He scooted up behind him, wrapping his arms around him and hugging him tight.

'Who said you were going to be the big spoon?' Miles mumbled drowsily.

'I just am.' He kissed the back of his neck, a good sound smack, feeling euphoric. 'Do you want to go again?'

'Seriously? Lemme sleep.'

'I could do you now.'

'Can't fuck. Sleeping.'

'Please.' A gentler kiss on his shoulder. 'Sweetheart?'

'I don't know about sweetheart.'

'Darling?'

'Definitely not darling.'

'Baby.'

'Maybe baby.'

'Just because it rhymes?'

'Mmmmaybe.'

'Then please, baby, let's go again.'

'Nah, baby's not working for me.'

'Miles, please?' He slid his hands down Miles' back and rubbed his buttocks, making slow, kneading circles. 'I want you so much. You're so, so beautiful.'

Miles started to laugh sleepily. 'You are not on your A game,' he said. 'That's… that's really high school material.' He rolled over, though, wrapped his arms around Richard's shoulders and kissed him lazily.

'Ah, but I didn't go to high school.'

'So? What does that mean?'

'I don't know,' he admitted, knowing he was smiling foolishly. 'But I want you, and you're beautiful, and you're beautiful, and I want you.' He rolled on top of Miles and kissed him deeply, stroking the roof of his mouth with the tip of his tongue.

'That's getting more persuasive.'

'And I want you _because_ you're beautiful.'

'Quit giggling.'

'I mean it, though.'

'You're so fucking horny… give me that thing. You get mine. Like the first time, okay?'

'Okay.' A warm, grateful kiss, melting into the surge between them. He got his forearm behind Miles' head, cradling him and supporting some of his weight at the same time, and reached down between them, stroking the plump shaft, squeezing the warm wetness out of the tip and spreading it around.

'Put them together,' Miles whispered, 'rub them together. We'll put both our hands round them. What happened to the lube?'

'I don't know, you had it.'

'Hang on. I'm lying on it. Here, get them really slick. Oh, fuck yes.' He tipped his head back, biting his lower lip as he frigged them together. Richard hovered over him, pumping his hips, watching his face, the way his eyelids fluttered and his brows scrunched together, the way his sweet mouth worked, opening wider as he breathed in but never actually closing, his tongue flicking out to slick his lips, until he had to cover them and kiss him, roughly and wetly, grinding furiously into Miles' tugging hand and his firm belly. 

Muffled noises rose from both of them, moans and grunts of pleasure and greed, until everything boiled over and they collapsed together, panting hoarsely, giddy with delight and satisfaction. Richard felt a great urge to say 'I love you,' even if he didn't know it was true. He settled for kissing Miles' wet, slick neck and hugging him tightly, feeling liquid squish between their bellies.

'I'm going to get too used to this,' Miles said faintly. 'Get lazy.'

'Mmmm.' Richard licked sweat from his skin, shoulder to earlobe, a long, slow, languid stroke of his tongue.

'Trying to eat me now?'

'Just tasting.'

'You're a pervert.'

'He said, smiling.'

'Not complaining, just describing. Roll over. Okay, now you can be the big spoon.'

'You are _wonderful.'_

'Yeah, you're okay.' Miles was warm and heavy and limp in his arms, fully relaxed, completely trusting.

'Come on, I tell you you're beautiful and wonderful and you tell me I'm a pervert and I'm okay?'

'I feel like a dork saying… okay. I'll try. You deserve it. You are… you're amazingly hot, I mean, okay, you're beautiful, you are so good with your hands and your mouth I feel like I'm going to melt or catch on fire or something… and…' He paused, gathering his thoughts. 'You're just right, okay? And if I don't say it all that well I'll try and show it.'

'You show it perfectly.'

'Yeah, I thought I showed your ass pretty well before.'

'I didn't expect to enjoy that the way I did.' He pushed the covers down to their waists and felt a cool rush of air on their damp, flushed skin.

'I thought you should once I found the sweet spot.'

'I still want to do it to you next time. The right way this time, lube and a condom, very comfortable for you.'

'You don't actually have to wear the condom unless you think you might have some weird nineteenth century VD I don't know about. I just wanted to use one 'cause I don't really like to get my dick dirty.'

'Oh, so no twentieth, twenty-first century VD to worry about?'

'Nah. I had a clean bill of health about a month before I got the freighter job. Admittedly, that's because an ex girlfriend phoned to say she just found out she had chlamydia and she wasn't sure when she got it so I should get checked.'

'Did you?'

'I got checked, yeah. Everything negative. Clean as a whistle. I was so proud I hung the results on the fridge.'

'This is a very modern conversation.'

'Well, we gotta get back up to date, you and me. It's two-thousand-seven.' Miles' voice was getting drowsier.

'I know. It's been two-thousand-seven for me all year.'

'Hell of a weird year.' He yawned peacefully, stretched a little and relaxed again. 'Right now I could sleep till oh-eight. Hope you don't mind.'

'I'll wake you before January.' He kissed Miles' shoulder and lay still, feeling him quieten, slip down into sleep. He tried for a moment to place this feeling, swallowing down the now accustomed guilt as he realised that this was his honeymoon feeling, the same deep warm protective glow that came from watching Isabella sleep, knowing that this was their bed, in their own little house, she was his own little wife, her soft white nightgown bunched up around her waist, his warmth inside her. She'd made him a nightshirt as a wedding gift, embroidered round the collar with oak leaves and acorns, and he'd loyally worn it although he was used to sleeping in nothing, or his shirt from the day before if it was cold, and anyway it always ended up bunched up to his waist too, the way they'd always seemed to slide together in their early days.

But he'd _loved_ her, he'd _married_ her, and fond as he was getting of Miles, lying here with the same feeling really wasn't right. If it meant that feeling just came from deeply satisfying sex, not from being in love and marrying your soulmate, the memory seemed to be devalued. He found himself remembering that sound of _pride_ in Miles' voice when he'd successfully fucked him, wondering if that was anything like the pride he'd felt the first time he'd managed to give Isabella an orgasm (which was not fucking, it was love-making), how much of a man that had made him feel. 

It was bewildering, since thinking in terms of husband and wife, man and woman, really wasn't helpful to understanding his current situation. It didn't even make sense to think of Miles as a boy, in that Greek sort of way, since he was fully thirty and obviously not going to take any sort of passive role. He'd never had a friendship that worked this way; it was impossible to think of being here with Ben or Mikhail or anyone.

His head was growing heavy now, and he gave up on working it out.

 

\---

 

Miles woke first this time, with the vague thought that they should turn off the bedside lamp some time. Oh well, at least it wasn't the ceiling light, so it seemed less wasteful. He didn't have to squint to see the clock said three-thirteen. Richard was stretched out beside him on his back, one arm up over his head and the other pinned under his own body. He sat up, lifted Richard's arm gently by the wrist and folded it over his stomach, then stretched with his own arms up over his head. The bed was crumpled and his belly was sticky, his pubic hair still damp with little blobs of cum nestling in it. 

The smell of sweat and spunk from both of them was warm and sharp, something he guessed he'd get used to, but at the moment it seemed obtrusively strong, like they were hanging a sign on the door that read GAY FUCKING IN HERE. Richard looked messier than he did, having more hair to catch the evidence. He decided to do him a kindness, and tried to clean him up a little with tissues and wipes, then himself. After that he just sat cross-legged, leaning back on his hands, and studied Richard, getting a really good look the way you can when you don't have to be mindful of your expression or how long you stare.

It was just so hard to believe that this was really happening, and was going to go on happening, that he had full permission - from himself too, that was the kicker - to go exactly where he wanted to with this man. And he kept going back over that word man, and what a complete and total _man_ Richard was, and how goosey and stupid and desperately horny that made him feel. The wife's cross on his chain was glinting in Richard's chest hair, the light shifting on it as it rose and fell with his deep, gentle breathing. He wasn't going to ask for that chain back, and he hoped Richard wasn't going to replace it.

He reached out and finger-brushed the curly hairs on Richard's long, firm thigh, admiring the muscle, how wonderfully shaped his legs were. His penis lay curled limply against his other thigh, his balls looking soft and heavy in their dark nest of fur. Miles leaned closer, slipping his hand between Richard's legs to cup and weigh them, fascinated by their male sameness and all the little differences. His cock shrank back a long way when it was soft, while Richard's hung almost at full length, and while his curved upward when erect, Richard's stuck out straight, a stiff red mast.

He decided Richard had had plenty of sleep now, and gently nudged his thighs further apart so he could lie between them, resting comfortably with his elbows either side of Richard's hips, dipping his head to lick his warm, sleeping penis. He bathed it all over with the flat of his tongue, nudging it into line, lying over his belly, pointing to his navel. Richard didn't wake, and he tried nibbling very softly up the underside, then sucking lightly, sliding his mouth up and down. He wasn't getting hard yet, but Miles was prepared for it to take a little time, under the circumstances.

He knew he had at least one more shot in him, and working on Richard was making him feel it, his cock tingling and stiffening as he nuzzled and lapped. _I have his cock in my mouth, I have his big thick male cock in my mouth, I officially like dick._

Richard made soft, contented sounds in his throat and shifted his legs a little further apart, tilting his hips, and Miles wondered if he'd managed to intrude in his dreams. He went on patiently, and in a few minutes was rewarded by a thickening and stirring under his lips. Paying more attention to the tip now, drawing it in and massaging it with his tongue, brought stiffening, a drowsy groan, and a hand caressing his head and shoulders.

'You're ambitious,' Richard sighed, his voice deep and blurred with sleep. 'How many times would that be?'

'Four for you, three for me.'

'Mmm… you do deserve it, I guess. I'll try.'

'Think big, hard, throbbing thoughts.' He drew it in as deeply as he could and sucked hard, bringing his head up slowly.

'All right…' Richard propped himself up on his elbows to watch, which helped a lot; Miles was looking up at him, eyes dark and eager as he suckled. 'Tell me the truth, do you put something on your lips to make them so pink?'

'Mm-mmh.'

'So _your_ lips… are what all the lipsticks and things are just trying to look like. Don't… don't give me that look, I don't want a sarcastic blowjob.' He reached down and stroked Miles' cheek, gazing at him intently, a smile tickling his lips. 'Come up and kiss me.' He gathered him into his arms, kissing him greedily. 'So did you wake me up that way because you want me in you?'

'What do you think?' Miles was straddling his lap now, both hands rubbing his chest, pinching his nipples. He slid his hands down Miles' back and squeezed his rump.

'Want me to fuck you?' An eager whisper between kisses. 'Fuck it in and out?' That got him a hard slap on his upper arm and a much softer bite on his lower lip. 'Don't you know you never get to forget you said that?' Firmly rubbing and squeezing, he slid his fingers down between Miles' buttocks. 'Good? Not too sore?'

'Rub some lube on it. Better. That's a lot better.' Miles' hips twitched forward as Richard pushed his fingertip in, then he relaxed a little and pushed back. 'Ohh… thanks.' He rocked against Richard's hand for a few moments, pushing himself onto his middle finger, biting his lip. 

'I think now… okay, you keep still.' He squirted lube into his hand and stroked it over Richard's cock, giving it a little tug and shake to make sure it wasn't slackening. 

'I'm going to put you in, all right? So just keep still.'

He shuffled forward a little on his knees, trying to line them up, holding Richard tight and lowering his bottom, tucking the swollen head into his cleft and bearing down on it. He winced for an instant until the thick ring of muscle relaxed, sliding down the pole with a gasp of relief. 

'It is a _lot_ easier the second time.' He steadied himself, hands on Richard's shoulders, his thighs taut, his knees and toes digging into the mattress. 

'But God, it's in deep.' A little shudder ran through him, and he lifted himself up a bit.

'Here.' Richard drew up his knees, giving him something to lean back on, holding his hips and leaning in to kiss his neck and chest. He needed to distract himself from how urgently he wanted to thrust, now that he was inside Miles, wrapped up in that warm, strong, pulsing body, wanting to please him inside and out.

'Push,' Miles groaned, and they rolled together. 'Ah! That's good… that's so fuckin' good. God, I love your dick.' A deep, hard, sucking kiss, Richard's hips shaking with eagerness as Miles ground down on him.

'You want to fuck me, don't you.' He whispered it with his lips close to Richard's.

'Of _course_ I do.'

'Can't with me on top.' Sweet little mocking grin.

'I could try.' He jerked his hips sharply upward.

'Nah… this time I'm just going to bounce. I see why the ladies like this position.'

'More work for you, though.' He leaned back on his braced arms, watching Miles ride him up and down, admiring his sleek body, shifting his weight to one arm so he could stroke his chest and stomach, pinch his toast-brown nipples.

'This isn't work. Wouldn't… aaah… wouldn't do it so hard if it was.' He was moving faster now, one hand clutching at Richard's thigh behind him, the other feverishly pumping his shaking erection, a thick glistening strand of precum draped over his knuckles. When he came, there was precious little semen, but a great deep grunt of satisfaction made it unquestionable. Limp and pliant, in a daze of pleasure, he let Richard roll him onto his back and pump away until he was spent, joyous and exhausted.

They lay together, legs tangled, breathing deeply and feeling the little flickering aftershocks of exertion in their muscles. Miles sighed softly and happily, flexing his back a little.

'I should warn you,' he said. 'I think I'm gonna be really greedy. Now I know how much I like it, I'm going to be pestering you to fuck me all the time.'

'I'll cope.'

'You like my ass, right?'

'Of course I do.'

'Tell me why.' 

'Seriously?'

'Yeah.'

'It's tight… warm… smooth and soft… and you squeeze on me.'

'I do, don't I. You prefer one? I mean, ass or pussy?'

'Not really.'

'I've always liked ass because it's so tight and squeezy. If it could get wet like pussy it'd be perfect.'

'You're perfect already.' He kissed him, tracing his lips with the tip of his tongue.

'Yeah, don't tell me you wouldn't like it if I could get all wet and juicy for you.'

'Sure, but that's like wishing for… I don't know… everything at once. I don't need that.'

Miles stroked Richard's hair back from his forehead, gazing seriously into his face. He kept looking as if he were about to say something, but never quite did, and Richard realised he was drowsing now, slipping into sleep. He wrapped him up in his arms, wanting to keep him as close as possible until morning.

 

\---

 

When he woke it was because Miles disturbed him getting back into bed. It was very early morning, the light from outside grey and dawnish.

'Where were you?' he asked, lying sprawled on his back as Miles nestled up to him.

'Bathroom.'

'Wish I could go without having to go anywhere.'

'Here's an incentive. Go, and give your dick a really good wash, and I'll suck it when you come back.'

'All right. You've motivated me.' He pushed himself up and swung his legs out of bed, hunting around for yesterday's boxers for decency's sake.

Coming out of the bathroom, he bumped into Frank, looking rumpled and bristly in pyjama pants and undershirt.

'Oh. Good morning.'

'Morning,' Frank mumbled. They sidestepped past each other, then Frank paused. 'Listen,' he said, 'uh, I should say something.'

'What's that?'

'Well, uh, nobody wants to embarrass you boys, we're all glad _someone's_ happy… but can you two try to keep it down? I didn't notice anything first night, I was dead to the world, but the walls aren't that thick in this place.' He slid his eyes away sheepishly.

Richard couldn't think or speak for a long, long moment. He couldn't remember ever feeling such an acute shock of humiliation in his life. How unbelievably stupid. How disgusted everyone must be. Why in God's name hadn't they waited until they could have real privacy?

'Hey, you don't have to be embarrassed, there's nothing wrong with it, I'm sure as hell not judging you,' Frank was saying. He was red-faced himself, as far as you could tell through the sunburn. 'If two people're happy together, not hurting anyone, why should anyone, I mean, aw, shit. C'mon, quit looking like that. It's not the end of the world, man.'

'I'm sorry about the noise,' Richard said stiffly. 'It won't happen again.' He turned and walked away as fast as he could, wishing like anything that he'd at least had more clothes on for that conversation.

Miles had opened the curtains so he could see the sun rising from the bed; Richard jerked them shut and yanked the blankets up over him before sitting down with his head in his hands.

'What's up with you?' Miles asked. 'Wait a few more minutes and you can admire me in a sunbeam, or whatever.'

'Everyone could hear us,' Richard muttered. 'I just saw Frank and he asked us to _keep it down in future.'_ He stared down at his own knees, at his bony feet, at the ugly pink-flecked beige carpet, feeling like he would throw up if he didn't breathe very carefully.

There was a moment of silence behind him, and then Miles murmured 'Shit.' He sat up in a rustle of sheets and put his hand on Richard's shoulder; Richard shrugged it off.

'You okay?'

'Think I'm going to be sick.'

'Was he a jerk about it? I mean, did he get ugly with you?' Miles hitched himself over to sit beside Richard, trying to see into his face.

'No, he was really _polite.'_

'What're you so upset about, then?'

'Why aren't you? They _heard_ us. What we were doing.'

'Well, it's embarrassing, but you know, what the fuck? I don't care who knows I'm with you now. You're a catch.'

'You were the one who said for years you didn't want to think you could be gay.'

'Yeah, but… I don't know, it's nothing like as embarrassing if I can be like, so what if I'm a little bit queer, have you seen who I'm fucking?' He nudged Richard's shoulder with his own.

'I don't want _anyone_ to hear me doing something that private,' Richard mumbled. His eyes were stinging. 'That's just… nobody should ever hear that.'

'Jeez, you're mortified,' Miles said. 'Come on, I bet they'll be okay about it.' He tried again for the shoulder pat, and was allowed to keep his hand there this time.

'It doesn't matter how _they_ are about it. This is how _I_ am about it.' He pushed his hands back through his hair. 'I can't  believe I didn't even think about it. I'm a moron.'

'Naah. Well. I'm just as dumb. We couldn't help it. And from now till the others go, or we go, we'll be so quiet, they'll think we're mad at each other.'


End file.
